


Horror Septics

by CrystalNinjaPhoenix



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Horror, Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Gore, Original Characters - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 68,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalNinjaPhoenix/pseuds/CrystalNinjaPhoenix
Summary: A world where the characters we know are not human at all, but instead the monsters one would encounter in a horror story. There are six of them, all with different approaches and goals. And there are humans, as well, living carefully to avoid the danger.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Strange Things in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is a sort of series that, like all my other fics, is uploaded from my Tumblr. It may sound like a bit of an odd concept, but apparently people really like it, because I did not mean for it to take off like it did on there lol. If you're just picking this up now, the first few stories are kind of individual, but eventually a connected storyline will develop. Heed the tags, and I hope you enjoy!

There are strange things in the world. You do not want to encounter them. 

The first one is in the corner of your eyes. It’s in the corners of your house, and you can’t get away from it. The echoing shrieks of children follow it, as does the sharp smell of alcohol. t’s slow, but somehow it always catches up to you, and no matter how you try to get rid of it, it won’t go away. At night whispers can be heard. They tell you that you’re worth nothing, that it would be better to give up. The whispers come from it. You can’t get rid of them. You can’t get rid of it. Do not listen to it. Those who do are found dead in their own homes, blood on their own hands.

The second one chases you through empty white walls. It laughs and tells you to slow down. Why are you running? It drips with blood and wields steel instruments. There are no victims here. Ignore the screams coming from the other rooms. You can’t stop running, but there is no way of getting out. The halls stretch endlessly, white, white, red crosses and splashes. Do not let it catch you. The ones that are caught are not seen again. At least, not in one piece. Still, it’s satisfied with its work, with the effectiveness of its treatments. Look how many people are being helped.

The third one hides. You can’t tell there is danger at first. It speaks to you, seems friendly enough. But once you’ve been drawn too close, once you’re invested, you start to notice things off. The smell of smoke and blood, the way it moves just off enough. There is a glint in its eyes when it asks for an odd favor. And another. And another. They keep getting more dangerous, but it promises you it’s all for the greater good. You think it really believes that. But do not fall into its trap. Cut ties before its too late, before it is in your mind. Those who don’t end up taking the fall.

The fourth one likes to lurk in the distant forests, the distant mountains. You see it following you, a shadow with a Cheshire grin whose face you can’t see. Mist weaves around it; it smells of the dead mulch on the forest floor. It calls to you. It promises you what you want most, and if you agree, it will deliver. All it asks for is an appropriate price in turn. Do not agree. Those who do will find their deepest wishes granted, but they will waste away without reaping their benefits. The mist starts to smell of rotting things. It does not stop grinning. Every soul taken is more power.

The fifth one is impossible to hear coming. It walks in silence, thread trailing from its limbs. You see it coming, and try to flee. Strings are woven into nests like spiders’ webs, invisible to the eye but sharp enough to slice skin. Color seems to drain from the world as you struggle, and break into a run. It’s no faster than you, but you can’t tell where it is. You may slow down, thinking you’ve outrun it. Do not lower your guard. And remember to look up, look for it dangling from its own strings, waiting for you to forget. Those who relax find they can’t breathe, their bodies responding to others’ commands.

You do not want to encounter the strange things in the world. The five who will cause your end, take your life, mind, and soul.

Yet there’s still another. Even the five are afraid of it; they do not speak of it unless in hushed tones. It hears the call of its name. Do not speak it. You feel like you are being watched. You are. The humming of electricity means it is nearby. Your eyes start to bleed. You hear voices in your dreams. You start to think that maybe it isn’t too bad. Your head pounds, and you snap to your senses. The screens of your TV, your computer, your phone constantly break and their speakers shriek of static. The knives in your house are somehow placed on your table. You have no memory of what you did yesterday, but your friends say you got in a fight with intent to kill. You are pleased about that. You hate that you feel that way.

Do not encounter the last one. Do not attract its attention. Do not give away that you know it is there. Do not feed it. If you do…

Be prepared to say goodbye.


	2. Misery

The first night in the new house, you could’ve sworn you heard someone crying. The sort of quiet sobs that are made when you don’t want anyone to hear you. But you got up to go look around, and the sound stopped. The house was empty, as it should be, and so was the street outside. You brushed it off as the remains of a dream, and went back to sleep.

You knew this was an old house, that it had been left empty for some time before you bought it for a low price, but did that account for all the dust everywhere? It felt like everyday you had to wipe down something else. Even places like the dining table where you ate, or the counter around the sink in the bathroom, places that were well-used that shouldn’t be gathering dust…every couple days you found your hand came away gray when you swiped it across these surfaces. That wasn’t normal, was it? Maybe there was something about the ceilings or walls that made dust gather.

The crying sound returned a week later, but once again it stopped when you got up to look around. You went in the kitchen. There was a puddle of amber-colored liquid spilled across the counter. You don’t know where it came from. It smelled…sharp, as you cleaned it up.

One day, you stumbled across the trapdoor to the attic, left open. You didn’t even know this house had an attic. You climb up to peek around. It’s full of nothing but a layer of thick dust. There aren’t even any lights. You hear sobbing on the edge of your awareness, but you can’t see anything in the darkness. You leave, and come back with a flashlight. The attic is empty. But you think you can see something when you turn around, something flickering in the corner of your eyes. It’s not there when you look.

You try to go to sleep that night. You hear footsteps in your room. You turn on the light and look around, finding nothing but that same flicker. You turn the light off and try to sleep again, but you feel like something is standing next to you. It might be whispering to you. You don’t fall asleep until dawn.

While cleaning the living room, you find a pile of children’s drawings under the sofa. You wonder if they’re from the previous owner. You call them, but they say they never had kids. That night, you think you hear kids screaming…with joy, you think. Is someone standing next to you?

You hear the crying during the day now. The house is still empty. The dust keeps gathering. Now you have to wipe it away every day.

You can hear the whispering at night. It tells you everything you think about yourself that you won’t admit.

A few months pass before you decide enough is enough. You make an appointment with a therapist. You tell them about all the things you’ve been hearing, about how you think you might be losing it. Because there can’t be anyone in the house with you. There can’t be. There can’t be.

There can’t be.

There can’t be.

There is.

You leave the light on that night, and for once, the whispering and the crying seems to disappear. You drift off, only to wake up again two hours later. The surface of your pillows and blankets are covered in dust. The light has turned off. There’s someone sitting in the corner of your room, hunched over, shoulders shaking. You can hear crying, louder than before. Furious, desperate.

You don’t want to move. You close your eyes, and try to go back to sleep.

The sound of sobbing gets closer to you, and you still don’t open your eyes. It’s right next to you. You struggle to keep your breathing slow and even.

It’s right next to you.

The sound stops.

You feel the mattress below you shift as a weight suddenly presses down on the foot of your bed. A weight like someone is sitting there. And it stays. You don’t know for how long. You try to keep pretending to sleep. You can smell something sharp in the air, something that’s now familiar.

The bed springs creak. Your heart quickens. It’s coming closer.

Something curls around the edge of your blanket. A hand, you think. And a voice.

“Shh _._ ”

You panic, flinging away the blankets and trying to make a run for it. Something grabs the back of your shirt. The sharp smell in the air is now intense enough to make your head swim. You scream. Something covers your mouth.

“ _Shhhh._ ”

The next day, they find your body dangling.


	3. Notarzt

“Geh nachts nicht alleine aus.”

That was what the locals kept telling you, whenever they realized you were from out of town. They said the streets weren’t safe, something about gangs. You said they were worrying about nothing, that you knew how to handle yourself in a bad situation.

And then that thing pulled you screaming off the sidewalk.

You don’t know where you are now. The walls are white, except for where they’re stained red. The floor is the same case. Lights overhead are broken or flickering. There is something jammed in your leg, something metal and sharp that you can’t identify, but you know better than to pull it out, or risk losing blood. You need to get out of here.

Any doors you find won’t open. There’s no window in sight. You hear sounds through the walls, desperate sounds of pain, but you can’t get to see what’s causing them. The metal object seems to dig deeper into your leg, slowing you down. You feel like you’re running out of time.

And suddenly there are footsteps behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know that it’s right there. But you turn to look anyway. Adrenaline gives you the jolt to run.

It’s laughing, laughing, laughing as you heart pounds out of your chest. The halls are a maze that you don’t have a map for, a maze that you turn through randomly, praying you won’t reach a dead end. Your leg is in agony, but you can’t stop because it’s right there and if you hesitate for even a second it will close the distance and you’re not sure what will happen but you don’t want to find out dear god please let there be an exit somewhere or even something you can throw behind you to stall it and maybe get away—

But it’s too late. Just one stumble and it grabs you, both of you crashing to the floor. You scramble for purchase on the stained tiles, clawing at the ground and kicking in the vain hope that you can escape. Your effort is wasted. Something is jabbed in your arm. Then your back. Then your neck. And there might have been more, but your head is swimming too much to register the sticks of pain as darkness overtakes your vision.

Now you’re waking up in a bed, in a room with the same stained walls. Someone’s drawn dotted lines along your arms and down your chest. It feels like your thoughts are swirling around, floating in some kind of mire, but you manage to sit up.

You can hear someone screaming.

It takes a moment for this to register as an alarming thing to hear. Once it does, you try to stand up, taking a minute to find your balance on wobbly legs. Walking is difficult, more stumbling than anything. You see a door, and stagger towards it, leaning against the wall for support. But the door is locked. You fall to the floor.

There has to be a way out of this. As your head starts to clear, you figure out a plan. You wait by the door, back pressed against the wall. Someone—or something—has to come eventually, right?

Your feet start to ache from standing for so long. You can still hear the screaming. It doesn’t stop, high shrieks of agony that crawl down your skin. Until it suddenly cuts out. And a few minutes later, you can hear footsteps. The door swings open.

It doesn’t see you. You hold your breath as you creep out the now-open door. As soon as you are out, you slam the door behind you and break into another run.

You’ve reentered the maze of halls, but find you have no more luck than before. Still, there is nothing that can be seen as an exit. You don’t know if it’s following you, but you sprint like it is. Please let there be something, anything, that can help you escape from this nightmare. Please, just anything, a place to hide, something to fight with, anything, anything, anything—

Nothing, nothing, nothing but the red on the walls and the flickering lights above you.

“Du kannst nicht für immer rennen.”

The voice is behind you, it’s always behind you, and you push yourself farther. Your lungs have been torn into rags, your heart is about to burst, but still you run.

Until you turn a corner, and it’s there.

And you wake up again. Now the bed has straps, holding you in place, and you can hear it walking around the room. You can’t turn your head to look at what it’s doing. You’re not sure you want to. And you realize that your brief escape was just delaying the inevitable. You shouldn’t have gone out alone.

Now it’s your turn to scream.


	4. Sangria

It was supposed to be fun. Good, harmless—or, well, relatively harmless—fun. Doing things that would make a statement. But now, you’re not sure you ever knew what that “statement” was supposed to be.

Why did you agree to this? How did he manage to convince you?

With the world collapsing around you, you remember.

Maybe it started with the little things. Things like walking out of a restaurant without paying, or snatching a stick of deodorant off the store shelves. They were supposed to be acts of “rebellion,” things done to upset the “system.” What system? You can’t recall ever asking. That always seemed like good enough reason on its own.

Maybe you should’ve started to catch on when it got more serious. Breaking car windows, lifting more and more expensive items. He gave you a knife—"just in case,” he said.

Well that “in case” came sooner than later, as one evening a security guard found you with a bag half-full of expensive makeup that you didn’t even really want, and you aren’t quite sure what happened next except that you were out of that store and there was blood on that knife. He was pulling you away. He was laughing. And he didn’t stop until both of you were far enough away. You think you remember him pushing you towards that guard. You remember screaming in his face about it. He didn’t react much at all, his face hidden in the shadows of that hood he always had pulled up. Why was it always pulled up? You think he was smiling under there.

You threatened to cut ties that day, but when you received a text the next night, you didn’t hesitate to reply and get tangled up in this web once more.

There’s just something about him. Something about his voice, or his words, or something else. Whatever it is, it’s exhilarating, like lightning racing down your spine. You want to be wherever that feeling is, you want to do anything to hold onto it for a little longer. You need more of it every time, more, more, more of this breathless excitement, adrenaline-fueled ecstasy.

But now the world is falling in pieces around you, and it’s like a spell has lifted.

You’re staring at a burning building. People inside are screaming, shouting for help. It was supposed to be empty. Wasn’t that what he said?…or…did he say that at all?

This isn’t even an important building, just some tower of offices. Why did it feel so important to burn it down?

He’s standing away from you, back turned. You think he’s laughing again. Isn’t this fun?

As you stare, questions start to sprout in your mind.

Why can’t you remember how long you’ve known him?

Why can’t you remember the specifics of all your conversations?

Why can’t you remember his last name?

Why have you never seen him without that hood pulled up?

Why can’t you remember what his face looks like?

You lunge forward and grab his wrist. You can feel the bones grind underneath your grip. When he turns to look at you, you know he’s smiling. But you still can’t see his face. “Aren’t you having fun?”

No, no you aren’t, how could you be? There are shrieks drifting on the wind toward you, and it’s all your fault. Yours and his. You can only yell, feeling hot tears biting at your eyes. What was this?! What was the point of this?!

“I don’t know. What was it?” He yanks his wrist away. You hear something snap, like a dry, brittle twig. “Was this fun for you, was that it? Some sort of sick, twisted fun? How could you drag me into this?”

You can only stare. Was this a joke? None of this was your idea! And he’s shouting at you the way you shouted at him only seconds ago.

“Well, I hope you’re proud of what you’ve done.” He sweeps a hand at the orange-burning wreckage behind him. “Good thing I called the police. Now you can pay for what you’ve done.”

You’ll tell the police, you think. You’ll tell them it wasn’t you. That it was his idea.

And he laughs like he’s heard the thoughts racing through your head. “Good luck on that. I’m sure they’ll look favorably on you….” And before you can say anything else, his hand darts out and pulls you closer. “…for trying to make up a partner that never existed.” The voice is a hiss in your ear. He—it—laughs, and pushes you to the ground. And it walks away, vanishing just as the air flashes red and blue and red and blue.

You’re spouting nonsense when they find you. They think it’s best if you’re never seen again.


	5. Cait Coill

The fog is thick tonight. You don’t know where it came from, or when, exactly, it rolled in, but it’s here now. A heavy white mist covering your windshield. It’s no wonder you lose track of where the road is and crash into a tree along the side.

Your phone isn’t picking up a signal. Which is odd, you think. But then again, there is nothing but forest in all directions, and just a single road cutting through. Apparently several different companies have tried to develop this land, but the construction was alway plagued with accidents and bad luck, to the point where it wasn’t worth it. The small road was all you were going to get for the foreseeable future.

You start walking back in the direction you came, mist kicking up around your feet. Eventually you had to get a signal again. Right?

There’s something walking in the trees along the road.

An animal, you think at first, but then you realize it’s keeping pace with you, in a way no animal does. You shine your phone flashlight at the shadows between the trees, and catch the hint of something disappearing behind a trunk. You call out to it. It calls back. You ask it to show itself. Its head peeks out from behind the tree trunk. Its face is hidden behind a mask.

“Are you lost?”

No, you know exactly where you’re going. It just might take awhile to get there, considering how long you’ve been driving.

“May I walk with you?”

You don’t see a reason to say no. You continue walking. It continues keeping pace. You ask why it stays in the trees and doesn’t come out on the road. Then you ask why it’s out here in the first place.

“I live here. It’s not too far away. Why are you out here?”

You think it’s a bit odd, but again, you see no reason not to answer that question. So you tell it. And it continues to ask questions. Harmless questions. Mundane, getting-to-know-you questions. Or that’s what you think. Until you suddenly realize you’ve poured out your whole life story for it to hear.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Then it says, “I can help you with that.”

Your initial instinct is to say no. Your initial instinct is correct. But you don’t listen to it.

What’s the harm, you think instead? It’s probably nothing more than some crazy person living in the woods. There’s nothing wrong with humoring them.

So you say yes. And the smile under the mask—a smile that you just now realize was always there—widens. It disappears into the trees. The fog seems lighter than before. Your phone suddenly pings as it picks up a signal.

Maybe what follows over the next few weeks is simple good luck. Maybe that’s all it is that drives you to suddenly get your dream job, your dream spouse, and live in your new dream home. That must be it. Just good fortune. You forget all about the figure in the misty woods.The encounter fades to a distant memory, as weeks turn into months turn into a year.

Then a fog rolls into town.

You’re alone at home when you see the tendrils of fog creeping in under the front door. It smells of dead things. You know immediately that this isn’t an act of nature. But there’s nothing you can do. Not for lack of trying. Throwing things at the swirling fog does nothing, running from it does nothing, even your desperation to try and burn it with a lighter and a can of hairspray ends in failure. The fog is outside, too. There’s nowhere to run. There’s nothing to do but cower in the corner until it surrounds you.

The mist lightens, but you’re not at home anymore. There are no walls around you, just trees as far as the eye can see. The mist flows along the forest floor. As you watch it, you think you can see faces forming for a moment before disappearing once more.

Its there. It doesn’t look any different. Still wearing a mask, and still smiling underneath. It reaches towards you.

You try to turn and run, but it’s like the mist itself tangles around your legs and trips you. Tendrils weave around you, and oh, suddenly, it hurts. Suddenly it feels like a million razor-sharp teeth biting into you. Like someone poured molten silver down your throat and it’s filling your inside. You try to scream, but you no longer have a voice. Or a mouth.

“Hush.” You think it’s near you now. Or are you near it? You don’t think you can see, but you know where it is. “It’s over now. We both get what we wanted.”

In the end, you’re just another lost soul in the fog.


	6. Ragdoll

You come home late at night to a house of silence. It’s not unusual, so you pay it no mind, simply entering inside and getting ready to relax after a long night.

About an hour later, you hear the music playing. Tinny, old-fashioned music that’s almost quiet enough to go unnoticed underneath the sound of the television. You pause what you’re watching, calling out for your spouse. There’s no answer. You go in search of the music, finding the source in the basement. An old record player, one you inherited from your grandparents, is set up, and on it is a record with a spiral design, spinning, spinning, spinning. Odd. You don’t recognize this record. You shut off the music and go upstairs again, deciding to ask your spouse about it later.

The next night, you come home late to a house of silence. Once again not unusual, so you pay it no mind. You don’t notice that your keys don’t jingle when you take them out of your pocket to unlock the door.

And again you hear the music start to play an hour later. It’s slower this time, like someone’s pressed the slow motion button on a remote. Going downstairs again, you find the same record player, and the same record. You remember your spouse denying anything to do with this, but you wonder if maybe it’s a prank. This time, you make sure to put the record and the player away before going back upstairs.

Sitting in your living room, something catches your eye. Something that you think is moving. You turn to look for it, and in the process, you glance out the window. You look away, but then quickly look back. You thought you saw a person standing outside. But there’s nothing there. You brush it off as paranoia.

When you get up to go to bed some time later, there’s a handprint left on the window glass.

Maybe it wasn’t paranoia after all. Maybe the playing record isn’t a prank by your spouse. Maybe there’s someone outside…you quickly call the police about the possibility of a home invader. A couple officers come over, check around the house, and tell you there’s no sign of someone forcing entry. So maybe it was just paranoia and a prank. Still, you go to bed uneasy.

The third night, you come home late to a house of dead silence.

Once again, the music starts to play. It’s slower now, and sounds backwards and distorted. You go down to the basement one more time, and find the player and the record there again. You angrily stop the music, and shout for your spouse, demanding this to stop.

But when you speak, your voice makes no sound.

You try again to yell, and find the same result. You now know that this music isn’t caused by something natural. Fighting down the initial panic, you practically run back upstairs. You’re not sure what to do, but you know you have to try to do something. You head to the kitchen and grab the largest knife you can find. Then you try to call the police again, only to find there’s no signal on your cell phone.

There’s something outside your window again. You can see its silhouette. It presses a hand against the glass. Somehow, that music is playing, even more distorted.

Your heart drops. You run upstairs, heading towards your bedroom. The doorway is already open, and you expect to run through to safety. But instead, you run into a spiderweb of near-invisible strings. You yell, but there is no sound. You back away, your blood now left on the threads, letting you see them easier. Heart pounding, you look behind you. It’s standing at the end of the hall. Your knife suddenly feels useless in your grip.

There’s a window nearby. You run towards it, throwing it open. You drop the knife through, then hesitate for just a moment before jumping outside. In the landing, your ankle twists awkwardly. You cry out. There is still no sound. It’s climbing out the window. It’s spidering down the wall. You run, not bothering to pick up the knife.

You run through the streets. It’s following you. You take shortcuts through the backyards. It’s following you. You reach the limits of the neighborhood, running into the trees in the wilderness surrounding it. You look behind you. It’s not following you.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You stop running, taking a break to lean against the nearest tree.

Something brushes against your neck. A…string?

You look up.

You scream.

Nobody hears it.

The fourth night, you come home late to find your spouse already there.They say they wanted to surprise you. You hug them, and say you want to go on vacation. You already have a few ideas.

And inside your head, you’re still screaming as you watch your body move without your will.


	7. Ąŀ¶þň²Ø¡

You watch a video online.

You’re not quite sure how you got there. Just that it’s the result of a rabbit hole of late-night clicking. It’s a normal enough video, for the most part. Except for a spot in the middle, when your screen glitches out. The glitch lasts thirty seconds exactly, and for a moment, you think you see a face in the colorful static. Or maybe it’s an eye?

But it’s back to normal. You continue on like nothing has changed.

Nothing happens the next day. You continue on as usual. And the same for the next day. It’s the third day that something seems off. Your computer is acting…odd. It’s freezing, videos playing in lower quality. You’re annoyed. Maybe the computer caught a virus. You take a moment to update your antivirus software. It seems fine, now. So you continue on with business.

The next night, the computer is still acting weird. You’re beyond annoyed now, reaching the point of frustration. You’re no computer expert, so you decide to take it into a computer shop tomorrow.

Then the window for your webcam opens. You’re startled, unsure of what could’ve caused it to open. You’re about to close it, but then you notice a flicker in the camera’s view behind you. You squint…is there another shadow behind you? When you turn around, there’s nothing there. But it’s definitely there in the camera view. Might be another glitch. You close the window, and go to bed. But you can’t go to sleep. 

You feel like there’s something in the room with you. But you can’t see anything.

You take your computer to the local computer shop that morning. It’s examined, and then handed back to you, saying there’s nothing wrong with it that the shop can see. They ask if they can keep it overnight for a more thorough check. You agree.

When you come home, you find that your TV is on, turned to a channel of static. You’re sure you left it off. The white noise in the air seems to laugh at you.

It gets worse.

Your computer is returned, and again, they say nothing is wrong. But it keeps stuttering, the screen going black or white at the wrong time. Windows open on your desktop randomly, your browser brings you to pages you’ve never visited. You leave for a few moments, and when you come back, the notepad is open with a string of random letters typed down. You get a new computer. The exact same issues continue.

The television turns on and off by itself. The lights in your bedroom flicker and switch off when you’re in there, and switch on when you aren’t. Your phone glitches, freezing and showing static. You’re seeing things out of the corner of your eyes, like a shadow of a figure following you. A headache starts to pound behind your eyes, and won’t go away.

A month after your computer first started to break, you wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, covered in cold sweat. You had a nightmare. You can’t remember what it’s about. When you open your eyes, there are green eyes staring back at you. They fade away. But you’re sure they were there. And you’re sure you can hear laughter now.

You make an appointment with a psychiatrist, thinking you’re seeing things. The eyes continue to appear, and your dreams are full of laughter and blood. Eventually, you start taking medication, but the eyes you see won’t go away. A headache grows against your temples.

You wake up one morning and find blood leaking from your eyes. And it’s then that you realize this isn’t in your head.

You get another new computer, and replace your phone as well. The same issues continue. In a fit of frustration one night, you shout, asking it what it wants from you. Your phone receives a text. The message is a string of letters and symbols that you can’t read, ending in a smiley face =). Another one is sent. This one reads: Will you scream for me?

You throw away your computer, your phone, and your television. It seems to stop for a while. But then the nightmares return in full. Your bedroom is dark at night, the walls covered in green eyes that glow. Your head pounds almost all the time, your eyes bleeding frequently. Friends and family start to wonder what is wrong, but you know they won’t understand.

The only option now is to run. You book a train ticket out of town. It’s a long ride, so you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s something that looks like a man sitting across from you. It looks…it should be dead, blood dripping from its neck. Its staring at you. You get off at the next stop.

You sleep in a hotel that night. The lights overhead flicker on and off. The thing from the train is staring through your window. You change hotels.

It follows you, no matter where you go. You take a plane to another country and it’s still there, standing at the side of your bed in the newest motel. Eyes are everywhere. Blood is everywhere. People give you odd looks, because they can’t see the thing following you.

One night, you wake up. It’s right there. It grabs your throat. You can’t breathe. It tilts its head, and opens its mouth, and says something…something that sounds like white noise and choking on blood at the same time. Somehow, you understand it. And it vanishes.

Eventually, your savings run out, and you’re forced onto the streets. There is even less shelter here. It never leaves now. You’re afraid to sleep, knowing it’ll just be in your dreams there, as well. You’re afraid to look away from it, of what it’ll do if you’re not watching. But you start to drift off regardless. Every time you jolt awake when it touches you, trying to pull you away.

But it can’t last forever. You fall asleep for a moment too long, and wake up to being dragged along the streets. You try to scream, try to claw at the ground, but it’s all in vain. It drags you out of the city, and the world seems to jump, and you’re suddenly in the middle of nowhere. There are broken scraps of technology along the ground, computer monitors and wires and televisions and radios. There are brown stains, the remains of blood.

It leaves, but you know it’ll be back. There’s nothing in sight for as far as you can see. Walking endlessly, you find it doesn’t change. But you have to try to find someone. You have to try to talk to someone.

You have to try.

You have to try.

I have to try.

Please, can you hear me?

Please, I don’t know how much time I have left. It’s coming.

It’s coming, I can hear it.

I can h̨ea̵͝ŗ it.

I̷͟ ̨c̶a҉n—̶̵̶̢͡

W̶ha͠t ̴͢a͟͝rę ̕y̨ou d͡o̵̢i͞ng̵̡͝?̷̛

T͞e̴l̵͢l ̴ţ͞he̕m͠ ͡g̵̶oơd͢͠by̴e͝.̷͡

øù͡®͠Źíî«̕Č̸ŋŒ½̶ÑħťË¬̛¿ÀçĜ×͠¤Šüý͟£ī—̶̵̶̢


	8. An Escape, of sorts

The couple is driving home from a party. It’s late at night and dark, but not pitch-black. Neither of the car’s occupants are expecting to see the man lying in the middle of the road.

The woman driving slams on the breaks, swerving to the side. Once the car stops, she turns to look at her partner sitting in the passenger seat, eyes wide. He returns the look. And the two of them climb out of the car.

“You didn’t hit him, did you?”

“No, I-I stopped in time.”

They walk over to the man in the road. He’s lying facedown, not moving. The asphalt beneath him is covered in a puddle of dark liquid.

“Is he dead?”

“Do we call someone, if he is?”

“Well we should probably call someone anyway—”

A gasp. The stranger bolts upright, and the young couple start and back away in unison, the man pushing the woman behind him. But the stranger in the road makes no further move, arms trembling as they support him. He’s breathing heavily. It sounds wet. The front of his shirt is stained red, crimson covering his face. A bright blue eye darts upward, taking in the two people. “H-help…pl…” He collapses again.

The couple stare at each other, aghast. Then, without another word, the woman takes out a cell phone, and the man leans down to pick up the stranger, carrying him back to the car. The woman takes her place behind the driver’s wheel as the two get into the back seat. She hands the phone to her partner, a number ready to be dialed on the screen. “Tell them we’re coming.” She starts driving, glancing back at the man they’d picked up. “Don’t worry, we’re taking you to the hospital.”

The stranger doesn’t respond at first. His eyelid flutters. “Wh…wh…?”

“Save your strength. Hang on. Can you tell us who you are? Like, your name?”

A pause. “My name…? My name…” The words are uncertain. “My name is…ĵ¿ÇŉŸæ.”

Later, a doctor at the hospital asks about where the stranger came from. The couple say they don’t know, he was just there. The doctor asks if they know who the stranger was. The couple don’t. The stranger has no ID, his fingerprints don’t register anywhere. They don’t even know his name.

The stranger passes in and out of consciousness for a week, lying in a hospital bed. He doesn’t speak, though that may be due to his extensive injuries. He had been moments from death upon arrival, and all the doctors agree that, if the young couple hadn’t found him, he wouldn’t have made it. As it is, he is in critical condition, remaining unresponsive. 

The hospital notifies the police. They’re required to. The stranger’s injuries are not consistent with an accident. In fact, they’re very intentional.

Eventually, the stranger wakes up for real. The hospital tells the police once again, and an officer arrives on the scene to ask questions. The first one they ask, “How are you feeling?”

The stranger stares, not answering. He asks a question of his own. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

“Hospital, hospital…” The stranger laughs, then chokes on the sound. “What city? What country?” He shakes his head. There are bandages on his neck, on his eye, around his chest and arms.

The officer tells him quickly, then moves on. “You seem to be recovering well. Though, there’s the matter of what happened in the first place. Can you tell me anything?”

The stranger stared out the window. “What’s the date?”

“May 16th.”

“What’s the year?”

Undisguised surprise flits over the officer’s face. “2018.”

The stranger laughs again, a wheezing, choking series of gasps. “It’s been that long. It’s been that long. It’s been that long.”

“Sir.” The officer shifts, uncomfortable. “We’d like to help you. But we can’t do so if you don’t help us. I understand you’ve been through a lot. But if you could just work with us—”

“You can’t help me.” The stranger has a smile on his face, slightly unhinged. “I appreciate the attempt. But you can’t.”

“We can,” the officer insists. “We just need more information. If you could even tell us your name—”

“My name is Ş±¢ŵ¦.”

The words don’t register. “—then we can see if there’s a case open for you. It would be a start, if you can’t give us anything else.”

The stranger shakes his head. He pushes back the blankets of the hospital bed, and attempts to stand. He falls back against the wall, legs shaking, but continues, stepping slowly forward.

“Sir, stop! You’re in no condition to be walking!” The officer springs into action, reaching the stranger and pushing him back.

The stranger continues to try and walk. He reaches for the door, even though it’s much too far. “I can’t stay,” he whispers. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Sir, no.” The officer’s voice is firm. “You need to stay here. Your injuries were…extensive. You need—”

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t fucking understand!” The stranger suddenly shouts. He slams a fist against the officer’s chest. “I’ve been in hell! I can’t stay here, or it’ll find me! I won’t let it take me back! I can’t! It’s going to kill me! Shut up! I can’t stay!” The stranger pounds hands and fists against the officer, wriggling in an attempt to get past, get to the door. The officer calls for assistance. Three nurses and two doctors answer the call. And the stranger keeps screaming things that don’t make any sense, keeps fighting and trying to run. Eventually, they have to sedate him.

The stranger falls silent after that. He doesn’t respond to any questions, or even acknowledge others in the room with him. He mutters about eyes and knives and broken computers. Nobody is able to get close to him without him lashing out at them. The staff is unsure what to do. They don’t know who he is, and the police are no help.

A month after his admission into the hospital, the stranger disappears. A few people report seeing a person leave the grounds. But when they’re shown a picture of the stranger, his face seems to slip away. Nobody can confirm if it was really him.

He gathers supplies and leaves the town. No one gives him a second look.

Ĵ¹ąØ«łĸ¤ doesn’t know what to do next. He just knows he can’t stay.

He can’t let it find him again.


	9. Cannot Preform Operation: File Has Been Deleted

There had to be a way out. If there was a way in, there had to be a way out. Or maybe the way out was only for…it. No, no he had to try. If he wasn’t trying, he was thinking. He didn’t want to think about any of this. About the endless black void above him, about the persistent hum in the air, about the various wires and circuit boards and other bits of technology he couldn’t identify. And definitely not about the thing that could show up at any moment. So he kept walking, stumbling over screens and speakers and looking for anything, anything, anything.

“My name is ĴÍŧ¬¤ŋ. I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m from Ireland. I have a family, parents and brothers and sisters. I have friends. I run a YouTube channel where I play games and commentate, it’s called ×óĹ©ŵŶę¾å. I’m an average human. My name is šĸ¯ċÑĪ°.”

The words were pouring out of his mouth without much thought. The muttering was a constant, something to cling to at the edge of the abyss. Even as his vision started to waver, the words kept coming. There was red wherever he looked. Small red circles. Droplets. He was losing a lot. Part of him wondered if he should be dead by now, if he’d lost enough to be close. It felt like it, but he kept walking, somehow.

“My name is ı¶ďğ«Æ». I’m Ð©¥ÓĥĴ-Ā×Ŀų² years old. I’m from ōø|ÅİÌ¿. I have a family, parents and ŋśŨé§ and ¢œĻđ±Ç. I have friends. I run a £ąÜĻËŝžğã º channel where I play games and commentate, it’s called ŹĎ½÷µŉÐĤéà¬. I’m a human. My name is Ċµ¼êŹ·.”

The hairs on the back of his neck started standing up. He didn’t turn around. Where would the eyes be this time? On one of the radios, taking the place of its buttons? Scattered across the back of a clunky CPU, wires attached to the centers? Maybe perched on the ends of a television’s antennae like a head on a pike. But they would be there. So there was no point in turning around. He kept walking forward, head on a swivel as he scanned the endless horizon, the words still coming.

“My name is ëÅŎĴ. I’m îļÁįŴĬŮŶďĤĜĨïÎ·« old. I’m from ÞžªŢŐĮ. I have a family, Ġŵ¹Ļţ and ØĵæèĒł and żºĺÔĖŃé. I have Ł°Ğřįħ. I run a ðèţüþŃļãß°ĊÆĳŭÆĸāĵä¦ where I åĪ®ŅöÁě² and øßè±ťōĴņŐŊ, it’s called â¾ÃĆ¼ÖĢŃŒý. I’m a person. My name is ĨÍľŢŴŸ.”

Something was twisting around his ankle. No, grabbing it. He kept walking. He wanted to shake it off and run, to at least give it a harder time. But he was…he was tired. Bone-weary with blood dripping everywhere. Still, he had to keep going. He had to. The mumbling continued, even when the thing pulled him back and spun him around to face it.

“My name is «ÚĺĳŦé. I’m ŜŝŉĨë¶âŴłĜń¸ĔĖ. I’m from œī»Į¦ðÊ. I have ¤¾óĈªĲÝ, Éť²ãĝŔ£ and ĤőĒđý and ũ§äĘġĢ. I şËÎćņŜŝŉĨë¶. I run aħŬÏø¤þć¯Ú£Řßŕ where ŐĻġü±ŔÐŉÓÛëÌĠŜ ĀĎêïèĸĄ, it’s ĉŁň¦ŖōŠ³ ŸªťíŋŖąš. I’m alive. My name is ĠóŚ×Đ.”

He stared into all its eyes, acid green in color and gaze just as burning. His throat closed up, something wrapping around his voice. Something piercing his flesh. He tasted copper. More blood came pouring out of his mouth.

“My name is ų̢n̨i̛m̶̨̨p̵or̨t̢͡an̴t. I’m t̛̕ra̧͞p͟p̛͞ed̴̵̛͟͟. I’m from ņ̢o̴͏̨wh̛͏̕͟ȩ̢̛r̢̕e. I have n̢͠ot̕hi͠n̛̛g̵̸͏̧. I a̵m̶ ͟n̶̡o̴̶th͢͠i͏̷͟͢͟n̴̢g̡. I run a̴̧w̛ay,͢ e̢n̷d̵l̨͡ess͝ly. ͝I̧n̢͏ ̷̛͟th͏is p̡͢la̸ce̶ where the̶r̴̨e̕ is ̡͡no̧ esc̛a͏͡pe̵̕, it’s ho͡pel͠e͏ss̷͟. I’m d̶yi̶̕n̡͞g. I̕͞'̸̧̧̡m̶̶ d̵͟e҉a̵d. My name is g̴̴ǫ̴ne̡̧ for̡̕e̕͏v̨̢e̕͟r°.”


	10. 1907

The family consists of a father, a mother, and a son, seventeen years old. They’re all waiting outside the house when the priest arrives. The house itself is not unusual looking. It is not too old and not too new, consisting of what looks like two stories underneath a peaked roof. 

They get to business immediately. “Thank you for coming, Father,” the family’s mother says.

The priest nods. “Where is the center of activity?”

“The second floor,” the father says. “We’ve moved everything down to the ground floor. But we still hear sounds from up there.”

“What sort of sounds?”

“Footsteps, crashes,” the mother says, shrugging.

“And singing,” the son adds. “A lot of it.”

That caught the priest’s attention. “What kind of singing? Male, female, older, younger?”

The family all look between each other. None of them can answer the question. After a long while, the father clears his throat and replies, “Male, we think.”

“Hmm.” This is unusual. But the priest is ready. “Very well. Show me to the second floor.”

Inside and up a flight of narrow stairs. The parents hover back at the top of the stairs as the priest heads down the hall. But the son is curious. He follows the priest, despite his parents silently beckoning for him to come back. He catches up to the priest, footsteps creaking across the wooden floors. When he pulls even, the priest doesn’t turn to look at him. “Lad, you may want to stay back. This is dangerous work.”

“I want to help,” the son says, folding his arms. The pair of them reach a T-intersection of the hallways. They turn left.

“Ah, the young always think they’re invinci—” The priest stops in place. The son keeps going forward for a few steps, before noticing it too.

There is a young woman, standing at the end of the hallway. She’s perfectly still, wearing a dress that’s tattered, its hem caked in mud. Her face is pale, unmoving. Doll-like. No, it’s not just doll-like, it _is_ a doll. Made of white porcelain. The priest crosses himself, pulling the cross from his robe. He holds it out as he approaches, the son creeping after him.

“What business do you have here?” The priest asks.

The woman doesn’t answer, her lips unmoving.

“Speak, demon!”

And still, no answer. But there is a sound, coming from somewhere. A slow chiming sound. A music box. Slowly after it starts up, a voice starts singing. It’s soft, gentle. Almost alluring. The son’s eyes glaze over, but the priest is more prepared. He starts reciting passages, the sort meant to banish the creatures of hell. Yet the singing doesn’t fade. In fact, it starts to get louder. The singing creeps into the mind. Accompanied by the music box chimes, it sends chills along the skin.

The woman was still standing there, not moving, not even twitching. And the son begins to think something was odd. Her still, pale face…has a seam in it. Along the edge of her jawline, there’s a small join. A join to…flesh. A suspicion strikes him. The son pushes past the priest and runs to the woman. He hesitates only a moment before raising a fist and sending it into that seam where ceramic met flesh.

Her head snaps to the side with a CRACK! White porcelain shards scatter across the floor. The woman gasps, stumbling. When she straightens, the ceramic face is half-shattered, showing the woman’s real face underneath. A bright blue eye looks at the son, who stumbles back in shock. Then the woman reaches up, hands moving towards her face in a slow, trembling motion. She struggles, like something’s pulling her back. But with a shout and one final burst of strength, she grabs the remains of the porcelain mask and throws it upon the floor. It shatters instantly.

The singing stops.

Now with her face revealed, the young woman can’t have been any older than eighteen. She looks up at the son and the priest. “Thank you,” she says, voice rusty with disuse.

“You’re…welcome?” The son shakes his head. “I-I mean, under normal circumstances, I never would’ve hit—”

“It’s alright, I would have done the same.” The woman tries to smile.

“My child, are you alright?” asks the priest.

“Yes, but we all may not be soon.” The woman shivers. “It’s still here. It’s in the attic.”

“The demon?” The priest asks.

“We have an attic?” The son repeats, confused.

The woman points to the ceiling above her. There’s an iron ring embedded in the ceiling. “It brought me here.” The woman’s voice trembles. “When you cleared out the second story a week ago, it told me to come stand beneath the door and guard it.”

“But you were standing there.” The son is still a little puzzled. “Not doing much guarding.”

“Not from you,” the woman says.

The priest stares at the metal ring. “Lad, give me a lift, I’m sure I can reach it. We’ll finish this tonight.”

Downstairs, the phone begins to ring. The parents, standing in wait at the top of the stairs, start at the noise. The mother sighs. “I’ll get it,” she says. “Though whoever it is has awful timing.”

She goes down the stairs and into the phone room quickly, picking up the receiver and placing it to her ear. She leans close to the mouthpiece and asks, “Hello?”

Someone’s breathing on the other side.

After a few seconds of this, the mother asks again, “Hello? Who is this?”

More breathing. The phone line starts to make a crackling sound. The mother holds the receiver a bit out from her ear. “If this is some kind of gas, it’s not funny. We’re trying to solve a very serious issue here.”

The crackling sound increases. And then there’s a voice. “I-I-I-Is-s-s i-i-i-i-it-t-t-t-t th-th-th-th-ther-er-er-ere?” The words come out stuttering in between buzzing and popping sounds.

“Is what here?” The mother asks. “I think you have the wrong line.”

There are several broken sounds, and it takes her a moment to realize the voice is laughing. The phone line squeals, and the call drops.

Back upstairs, the priest, the son, and the young woman are climbing into the attic, now equipped with a candle for light. There are no windows in the attic, the wooden planks shrieking every time they stepped forward. The darkness presses on them, strands of webs catching the candlelight.

In the shadows, there is a mechanical noise, like a crank being pulled, or a key being wound. And then the music box starts playing again. The singing follows.

The priest hands the candle to the son, and holds up his cross again. With the two younger people staying behind him, the group advances towards the source of the sound. They reach the edge of the attic, a slanted wooden wall coming into view. And there’s a man standing there. Or at least…it looks like a man. Its back is to them, but it’s clear something was…wrong.

The priest grips the cross tighter, gesturing for the two to remain behind him. “Demon.” He tries to sound firm, but there is a slight tremble in his voice. He’s never seen anything like this before. “What is your business here?”

The singing falters for a moment, and then the thing that looked like a man turns around. Slowly. It jerks and shudders as it does so. When it sees the group, its face shows no reaction. Its head tilts to the side in a single, sudden motion.

“Reveal thy name to me, demon!” The priest commands. His hand is shaking.

“Go. Away.” The demon’s face hadn’t moved, but there’s no doubt that the voice was coming from it.

The priest glances behind at the other two. The woman is almost as pale as her porcelain mask had been, trembling where she stood. The son stares, wide-eyed, at the demon. “Stay if you will, but be warned, this is not for the faint of heart,” the priest says. And steadying his voice, he starts reciting once more.

The demon seems to shudder, though its face is expressionless. And with a slow, spasming motion, it reaches forward. “Do. Not.”

The priest backs up, still reciting steadily.

“Please.”

The word is strange, coming from a demon. It causes the priest to falter, and the other two to gasp in unison.

“You will. Draw. Attention. None of us. Want.”

The parents had abandoned the tops of the stairs, now sitting in the parlor, listening for signs from above. The bulb in one of the electric lamps starts faltering, darkening and brightening.

The father sighs. He stands up, and walks over to turn the light off. When he twists the lamp’s switch, nothing happens. He frowns. “Odd.”

Another electric lamp falters as well, light flaring and dimming and flaring again. Then the bulbs in the chandelier dangling overhead flicker as well. The room is flashing between light and dark. The lamps are emitting a humming sound that steadily grows.

The mother stands up, walking to her husband’s side. “What do you think—”

And she stops. 

And she screams, pointing out the front window.

There’s something outside. It has green eyes. Not just two. Shortly after the mother screams and the father sees it, it smiles and disappears.

The electric light in the hall flickers as well. And in the stairwell. The kitchen, dining room, and all the first-floor rooms light up and dim, light up and dim. Sparks begin to fly, and then the lights in the second floor start to falter as well. The phone is ringing, ringing, ringing. The wires are humming, humming, humming.

The attic has no lights. But the humming can be heard through the floorboards. The three humans look confused. The demon freezes. “No.”

All of a sudden, it lunges at the three. Things happen too quickly to keep track of, but suddenly the demon is pinning the son to the floor. He feels his heart stop, sure that this is the end. But then the demon pushes him away, scrambling for the trapdoor out of the attic. The three exchange looks, then the priest goes to follow, and the other two hurry to catch up.

The second story hallway is lighting up and dimming, lighting up and dimming. The demon is standing in the center, looking at the bulbs as they begin to spark. “No,” it repeats. “It is. Here. It is. Here!” Is it…panicking? It dashes for the nearest door, pulling it open and disappearing inside.

“What is happening?” The son asks the priest.

For once, the priest is at a loss.

“I understand now,” the woman says, grabbing the son’s arm. “It told me to guard. There’s something coming that is…” She can’t bear to put words to the idea.

The lights flicker. Light up. Dim. Light up. Dim. Now there’s something else here.

The woman shrieks, and the priest crosses himself. The thing glances at them, green eyes blinking, and then turns away. It heads for the door the demon went through, and disappears inside the room.

“This is beyond me,” the priest says, pale. “We must flee.”

They practically run down the stairs, meeting up with the parents there. And then they rush out the house, not bothering to grab anything along the way.

They gather outside, the mother and father embracing their son. “What happened up there?” The mother asks in a hushed voice. She looks at the young woman. “Who is this?”

“She is a victim, as are all of us,” the priest states. He turns back to look at the house. “And I do mean all of us.”

The lights of the house flash bright one more time before shutting off all at once. A scream pierces the darkness. 

The family and the young woman stay in a hotel for a week, while the priest calls more officials to the house. They clean it, cleanse it, making sure nothing else can find it. The family waits another week, just to be sure. They call someone to look at the electrical system. The company says there’s nothing wrong with it. It must have been a freak accident.

When they move back in, it almost looks the same. The only difference is the innards of a music box, lying on the floor of one of the second-stories rooms, smashed and covered in blood too dark to be human.


	11. The Unknown Day

The young boy asked his grandmother why everyone was afraid of the nearby forest. She sighed, and told him a story.

The townspeople call it the “incident.” There was probably a better name for it, yet nobody offered one up. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to bring into everyday conversation, the more vague it was, the easier it was to gloss over. The grandmother had been a child at the time, the youngest of five children. Her oldest father and brother worked on the other side of town, and they were there, far from home, on the day of the “incident.” Her oldest sister was out on the square, coming home from shopping.

And walking home, her sister met someone. Someone sitting on one of the benches lining the road, lounging casually. She thought it was a man, but couldn’t quite tell. But she knew he wore a red jacket, his face hidden by a walking cap. She didn’t think he looked familiar…as she walked back, the man looked up, smiling at her. “Hello,” he said.

She stopped, blinking at him. “Hello. I don’t recognize you.”

“I’m new here,” he said. “Staying a while, too, for business.”

“That’s good,” she said nodding. His tone was friendly, warm. She found herself relaxing as she listened to his voice. “What’s your name?”

She gave him her name. “If you ever need anything, I live on Greenway Street, I’d be happy to chat.”

He grinned. “I will, don’t worry.”

She laughed; later, she would say she wasn’t sure why. And she turned to head home, but froze. Something was wrong. She looked through the buildings of the town, up the green slopes to the west. Trees covered the landscape, so thick they appeared to be merged together into a solid treetop mass. The forest was a constant presence to the town, a looming, watching force that pressed on everyone’s minds. You could see mist between the trunks. Usually, it stayed between the trunks. But now, there were tendrils of fog creeping down the slopes.

A pit opened up in her stomach. Something was wrong. She looked back at the person in the red jacket. He was also looking at the fog rolling down towards the town. “I…I think I should go home,” she said. “You should go back to…wherever you’re staying, too.”

The man—or was it a man?—smiled. “No, I don’t think that would help. It would probably follow me. Stubborn like that.”

She took a few steps back. And a few more. And then she turned and ran, clutching her groceries to her chest.

The mother worked from home, and was just finishing up when the oldest daughter returned, shaking and out of breath. The mother, at first, demanded to know what took her so long, but then the daughter said that the mist was coming down from the forest. Upon hearing that, the mother hurried to the door and locked it. She told the oldest daughter to go find the younger children and keep them from the curtained windows.

Four of the children were now home, the oldest daughter, the two middle sons, and the youngest daughter. The youngest asked what was going on. The oldest hushed her. The youngest went downstairs and asked the mother where the father and oldest son were. The mother hushed her too, saying, “If they’re smart, they’ll stay inside where they are. Now go upstairs. Don’t look outside.”

The youngest returned upstairs, but not before glancing through the windows. All the neighbors were rushing inside, slamming and barring their doors and shuttering their windows. A few trails of mist were creeping through the streets. She scurried upstairs.

Most of the townspeople rushed inside. Anyone not at home found the nearest building to disappear into, praying the people already inside would let them in. The mist filled the streets of the town, thickening, reaching to the roofs of the tallest buildings. In the town square, the thing in the red jacket stayed sitting on the bench while the mist flowed in. And when there was a silhouette in the fog, the thing stood up, and walked toward it.

Everything fell silent.

Inside the house, the mother and four children huddled in one room on the second floor, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. The youngest grew restless, and worried about her family that hadn’t returned yet. She crept away from the group, and drew back the curtain of the window to peer outside once again.

The fog was thick, off-white clouds covering the second-story window. She squinted, trying to see outside. For a moment, she thought it cleared. She thought she saw a man walking down the street, a man wearing a mask. And then the figure paused, and looked up at the window. And she realized it had never been a man.

She pulled the curtains shut just as her mother hissed at her to get away from there.

The sounds started soon after that. Wild yowling, scrabbling, screeching sounds of something sharp being drawn against stone, insane laughter, footsteps, the crunch and clatter of bones. The sounds continued into the evening, and all through the night. The mother and oldest daughter tried to tuck the younger ones into bed, but they couldn’t sleep. Everytime the sounds lulled, they would be brought back with an awful scream just as the children were drifting off.

Sunrise brought silence with it. The weary mother stood up, and checked outside to see the mist retreating. It was over.

The father returned home soon after the fog was gone. He’d stayed inside his work, knowing the fog was trouble. But the oldest son had ventured out, insisting the mist was nothing to be afraid of. His body was found, laying discarded on the street among other bodies—the ones who’d been left outside when the fog rolled in. Some of them appeared to be in perfect health, despite their dead state. Others were but skin and bones, and others still were mangled and slashed like a wild animal had torn them apart.

And as the youngest daughter grew up, got married, and had children of her own, she never forgot the day the fog had come into town. So she told her grandchildren of the dangers of the forest, where the mist stayed thick all day, during every season. There was a reason they didn’t go into the woods. You might be lost between the trees forever.


	12. We Don't Take Walk-Ins

There was a man sitting in the park. He’d been sitting there all day, and the sun was now setting. He showed no signs of leaving. And this caused the locals to worry. None of them said anything, but they would exchange sad glances with each other. Until finally a woman walked up to the man sitting on the bench. “Sir, es wird dunkel. Du solltest nach Hause gehen,” she said.

The man stared up at her. He pulled the jacket he was wearing close, the fur on its hood brushing his face. His right eye was hidden by a black patch, and his neck was hidden by bandages. “Sorry, I don’t understand you,” he said.

The woman immediately switched languages. “Sir, it is getting dark. You should get back home.”

“You know I’m not from here. I don’t have a home.”

“Well, get back to your safe place then,” the woman said. “It is dangerous on the streets at night.”

The man smiled. “I know. I’m…waiting.”

The woman’s eyes widened a bit, and she backed up before turning to quickly leave. Other locals walked up to her to ask what was happening. When she whispered to them what the man had said in reply to her warning, the park quickly emptied. If someone knew what happened after dark, it was best to stay out of their business.

The last pink hints of the sunset faded. The street lamps turned on, and the streets grew empty. Soon the sky was dark, and the man was still sitting in the park. His eye scanned the city, darting down the shadowed roads and alleyways. He sat up straight, focused on watching for the slightest hint of movement. In fact he was so focused on looking around that he didn’t notice the shadow behind him until a pair of hands reached out and grabbed him. He cried out, but one of the hands covered his mouth. And with a sudden jerk, the hands slammed his head backwards against the back of the park bench. His vision flashed white, and then faded to black.

He regained consciousness slowly. The first thing he noticed was the feeling of asphalt against his face. He immediately realized he was being dragged down the street. Shortly after he noticed the tight grip on his ankle. It was pulling him.

His head was pounding. He groaned, trying to shift position. And the thing sped up, now realizing he was awake. He yelped, falling back into the same dragging position. “You couldn’t at least carry me?” He asked, raising his voice.

The thing didn’t answer. It just kept dragging him. The rough asphalt was catching on his clothes, pulling up a few of the layered shirts he was wearing.

“Not even going to say anything? I know you can understand me.”

Silence. More dragging. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, only for a solid yank to undercut his efforts.

Fine. Might as well bite the bullet. “I need your help,” he said, voice low.

There was a falter. But it kept dragging. “Ich werde dir nicht helfen.” Somehow, he understood what it said, despite not speaking the language. _I will not help you._

“This won’t take long,” he promised. “It’s important.”

“Ich versichere Ihnen, es ist nicht wichtig genug.” _I assure you, it is not important enough._

“Maybe not for you,” he muttered. “But I bet I can convince you.”

They stopped. It didn’t let go of him, but it stopped. No longer being dragged against the ground, he managed to twist around to look at the thing. Its face was mostly hidden by the surgical mask it was wearing, but it felt like it was glaring at him. “Wie würdest du das machen?” _How would you do that?_

“Well, I can keep coming back.” He flashed a smile. “And you’ll have to keep tossing me out. Which I’m sure will be inconvenient.”

“Unbequem, ja.” _Inconvenient, yes._ Its grip on his ankle tightened. “Aber ich kann es schaffen.” _But I can do it._

“Yeah, you can do it, but for how long?” He managed to push himself up into a half-sit, or as much as he could. “Cause I don’t have much to lose. I can keep coming, and coming, and coming. And the longer I stay in one place, the easier it’ll be for it to find me.” Silence. His smile grew. “What, are you gonna kill me? It wouldn’t be very happy about you taking that from it, you know. But this shouldn’t take long. And then I’ll be gone, and I won’t come back.”

A long, long pause. He wasn’t sure he wanted to breathe, just in case. And then it dropped his ankle. “Was willst du?” It growled. _What do you want?_

He scrambled to his feet. “I need you to take care of this.” He reached up for his eye patch, briefly pulling it up to reveal what was underneath. He quickly pulled it back down. “I know you can do it. Don’t tell me you can’t when I’m just…I mean, come on, look at you.”

It was hard to reach its expression, but he could tell it was annoyed at that. “Fein. Komm schon.” Its hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. Before he could react, it turned and started walking. It was quick, and he stumbled at the initial yank before managing to keep pace.

It pulled him into an alleyway between two buildings. Between one step and the next, they weren’t outside anymore. They were standing in a white hallway, floor and walls stained with red. Doors lined the sides, as well as entryways for other halls to branch off. Somewhere in the distance, the hallway turned around a corner. They passed by a closed door. He could hear faint cries.

“I don’t suppose you have anesthesia,” he muttered.

It burst into laughter.

“Come on. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Wenn ich das mache, bekomme ich etwas daraus,” it said, its voice low and vaguely threatening. _If I do this, I am getting something out of it._ “Es ist nur fair.” _It is only fair._ It reached a door that looked no different than any of the others. It pulled it open and shoved him inside. “Jetzt setz dich, damit ich dich schneller aus meiner Stadt bringen kann.” _Now sit down, so I can get you out of my city faster._

An hour later, he woke up on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. It had refused to show him the way out, instead sticking him with a needle as soon as his back was turned. Waking up was a slow, groggy process. His head was pounding once again, and the area around his right eye throbbed with pain. But he laughed. It was done. It was actually done! That particular issue wouldn’t bother him again. Or at least…he hoped it wouldn’t.

He sat up, and it’s then that he noticed the scrap of paper next to him. He picked it up, and realized it wasn’t actually paper. But there were words written on it.

_Komm nicht zurück._


	13. Guardian Angel - Part One

**Day One in the New House**

—————

The moving truck had vanished, and she’d just gotten done putting all the boxes in the correct rooms, though they weren’t unpacked. She sighed in relief, and went upstairs to check on the kids. The upstairs had two bedrooms, and she’d given them the bigger one. She figured it was only fair, since they would be sharing it. She knocked on the door. “Mathew? Lark? Can I come in?”

A few muffled words of conversation, followed by a giggle and a “Yeah, Mom!”

She opened the door. The two of them had been busy setting things up in here, though it was still a mess. They’d divided the room in half, a bed against the opposite walls with a window in the middle. “How are you two doing?”

“We’re good, Mom,” Mathew said, in the middle of taping a poster to his side of the room. Larkin nodded in agreement, bouncing where he was sitting on his bed.

“Alright.” She was about to say more, but then she heard the doorbell ring downstairs. “Oh, I gotta get that. Let me know if you need anything.” She left, closing the door behind her.

Back downstairs, she peered through the peephole on the front door. Standing on her front stoop was a woman, probably about the same age as her, with dark skin and curly hair. Deciding the woman wasn’t threatening, she opened the front door.

“Hi!” The woman beamed. She was holding a plate covered in plastic wrap. “I saw you just moved in, and I thought I’d bring you some cookies.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t been expecting that. Even though it was sort of a thing to bring housewarming gifts, she didn’t know people actually did it. “Thank you, um…?”

“Oh! My name’s Janet Rovira.” Janet smiled brighter, if that was possible. “And you are?”

“Stacy. Stacy Allen.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Stacy!” Janet handed over the plate, leaving Stacy to take it. “You’re American, right? What brings you all the way over here?”

“My grandmother lived here,” Stacy explained. “She always spoke highly of it. I just thought that…the kids and I needed a new start, and I thought this would be a good idea.”

“Oh, you have kids?” Janet asked, intrigued. “I have a daughter, she’s eight months old.”

Stacy smiled. “Yeah, I have two sons. Thirteen and seven.” She silently prayed that Janet wouldn’t make any comments about how young she looked, she’d heard enough of those.

Luckily, Janet didn’t even seem to notice. “Ooo! Good luck, I hear thirteen is when things start to get difficult. You and the mister better be prepared.”

Stacy felt a shard in her heart. She smiled through clenched teeth. “Ha ha, yeah, I’ll be prepared.”

Again, luck was on her side, as Janet seemed to pick up on something in her tone. Her smile dropped for the first time. “You know, I was familiar with the last resident in this house. Emily.”

“Oh, really?” Stacy asked. “I, um…heard what happened.”

Janet couldn’t hide her surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah, the realtor was, um…legally obligated to tell me what happened.”

Janet’s expression dropped for the first time, sun overtaken by gray clouds. “It was a sad affair. We all wonder if it could’ve been different. I wasn’t too close, but I wish I could’ve been. Maybe it would’ve helped.”

“No use dwelling on the past,” Stacy sighed. “Just keep them with you.” She was familiar with that. Had some practice with that, in fact, in the last year or so. “Well…thanks for the cookies.”

“Oh, no problem, hun, we had some extra. Hey, if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just come on over. We live right across the street from you, and I work from home so I’m usually there. If I’m not, feel free to talk to Martín, my husband.”

Stacy managed a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

“Still no problem.” Janet backed up. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around, then.”

“See you.”

“Goodbye!”

Stacy closed the front door. As she did, she caught a glimpse of someone else on the sidewalk. She peered out the front window at the street. Yes, there was a man walking along the path. But then he stopped. And he looked at her house. Stacy gasped, drawing the curtain closed. Yet she couldn’t help it. She peeked out again. The man was still there. Janet was walking towards him, but she stopped, and then crossed the street, jaywalking across the empty asphalt. The man didn’t seem to notice. Stacy drew the curtains closed again. It was probably nothing.

But when she went to bed that night, it was hard to get to sleep. She felt like she was being watched.

* * *

**Day Fourteen in the New House**

—————

Stacy had been out all day, as she had been every day for the past week. She needed a job. She’d been looking online, and applied for a few but got rejected for all. She was now dropping her resume off at some places with hiring signs in the window, but she doubted she’d get an answer. She’d had exactly three interviews and hadn’t heard back from any of them, but she was sure it hadn’t gone well. She sighed, deeply. This was…this was tiring.

And upon arriving home, she was not excited to look out her car window and see the same man from two weeks ago standing outside and looking at her house.

Her heart shot up into her throat, but she remained calm. She parked her car in the driveway, unlocked her front door, went inside, locked the door behind her, went upstairs, unlocked the special drawer in her dresser, took out her handgun and shoulder holster, put it on under her jacket, went back downstairs, and the guy was still standing outside. Five minutes later. She took a deep breath, and went outside, walking right up to the guy. “Hey,” she said.

The man looked at her. “Hi.”

Stacy laughed. “Sorry, I was just…I saw you outside a few weeks ago, too. Do you…want to talk to me about something?” She figured it was a good idea to confront him about it.

The man looked back at the house. He…well, Stacy wasn’t one to judge, but he looked sketchy as hell. He was wearing a dirty green jacket, fur around the hood, at five o’clock on an August afternoon. The eye patch didn’t help, nor did the stained bandages around his neck. “There’s something in your house,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Stacy asked.

“Something in your house. It moves in the windows sometimes.” The man said this as if it was perfectly reasonable.

“Well…I don’t live alone,” she said slowly.

“No, I know. The kids, right? Two boys? I’ve seen them.” He smiled. “Cute. No, I mean…there’s a thing in your house.”

…okay. This was happening. Stacy’s hand drifted upward, towards the handle of her gun. “There are a lot of things in my house. But you don’t have to stand outside to watch for any of them.”

He looked at her again. And Stacy realized that, despite the streaks of gray in his hair, he was actually pretty young. Probably younger than her. “Right. I don’t have to.”

Stacy swallowed nervously, then smiled. “So…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

Silence. The man kept staring at her. Then he stared at the house again. And he backed up. “It wouldn’t like me,” he muttered, and then turned and slinked off down the street. 

Stacy felt like her house was about to pound out of her chest. She quickly hurried inside, locking the door behind her. And she took out her phone, dialling a number she’d gotten just a few days ago. It didn’t ring for long. “Hello?”

“Hi, Janet? I-It’s Stacy,” she said.

“Oh, hi Stace! What’s up?”

“Yeah, um.” She laughed nervously. And she glanced out the front window. No one was there. “Funny story. There was, uh, a…guy outside my house? Kind of, um, watching it?”

Janet’s tone suddenly sharpened. “What did he look like?”

“Um…” Stacy’s mind went oddly blank for a moment. “I mean, a guy in a green jacket. He had an eye patch.”

“Oh.” Janet sounded a bit relieved. “I know who you mean. That’s John.”

“John?”

“Well, that’s what everyone calls him. John Doe, you know? Cause nobody really knows his name,” Janet explained. “He’s…well, he lives in a tent in the park. Kind of crazy.”

“Crazy?” Stacy repeated, nerves crawling up her spine.

“But mostly harmless,” Janet hurried to say. “Martín’s seen him in the station a few times for disturbances, but he’s never hurt anyone.”

“What kind of disturbances?”

“You know, noise complaints, loitering, some mild destruction of property, pickpocketing. Why was he outside your house?”

“…I don’t know.” Stacy glanced out the window again. She thought she saw a flicker in the corner of her vision, but it must’ve been nothing, because nobody was there. “He said there was ‘a thing’ in my house. Kept saying it.”

“Yep, I told you, kind of crazy.” Janet sighed. “You tell me if you see him again, I’ll ask Martín to look into it.”

“Thanks, Janet.”

“No problem. See you later, hun.”

Stacy hung up, sighing. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to have to deal with some crazy guy on top of everything else going on. The boys would be starting school soon, she still needed a job, they were all adjusting to the new place and…well, the other thing. She needed a break.

She opened her eyes, starting to head upstairs so she could take a nap. But as she walked past the kitchen, she paused. And sniffed. There was a smell in the air…one that she better not be smelling in a house with a preteen and a child. She poked her head inside the kitchen. There was a puddle of red liquid on the counter, dripping off the side and onto the floor. Drops led to the closed fridge. She walked forward and opened the refrigerator door. Among the normal groceries were two dark bottles, a few cracks in them, covered in dust. She picked one of them up and sniffed it, then looked at the label. Yep, that was wine. What was it doing here? She didn’t own any alcohol, she was trying to give it up, avoid temptation. She decided she’d ask Mathew about it later that night at dinner. He was thirteen, he’d better not be getting into this.

She did talk to him. But he denied it, even when she explained she wasn’t mad. Mathew wasn’t a liar, but she gave him the talk about alcohol anyway, just in case. Because she didn’t want to think about the idea that someone had broken into her house, even if all they did was drop off bottles of wine. That was…confusing. And terrifying.

* * *

**Day Thirty-Two in the New House**

—————

Stacy arrived at the school a half hour before it let out. Just in case. It was another ten minutes before Mathew exited the building. He spotted her car immediately, heading right towards it. “Hey pumpkin,” she said cheerfully as he got in the car. “So how was ‘secondary school’?”

“Okay, I guess. A little weird.” Mathew stared out the window as the car pulled away. “It’s like Harry Potter.”

“Well, that makes sense. They are British books, after all.” Stacy bit back a yawn. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She kept tossing and turning, having this strange feeling…that she wasn’t alone. More than once, she could’ve sworn she heard someone whisper directly in her ear, but when she looked around, the room was empty. And last night, she thought she saw someone sitting in her chair, but when she turned the lamp on, it was just one of her cardigans thrown over the seat. These things must’ve been caused by stress. She’d finally managed to get a temporary job at the pool, but that would be closing at the end of the month, so she was still looking. And there was the whole “new city in a new country” thing. And she was worried about the boys’ new schools. And there was…well. All of these things probably added up. She trusted she’d sleep better once they all got settled. “Did you talk to anyone interesting?” she asked cheerfully.

Mathew shrugged; she could see it in the rear view mirror. “Mom…do we live in a ghost house?”

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

“Well, there were these two guys in my Math class, they said that the last person who lived there died, and now she haunts the place.”

Stacy nodded sadly. “Well…the last resident did…pass away. That’s why we got such a nice house for so little. Things like that lower the cost. But I don’t think ghosts exist, Matt.”

“Huh.” Mathew stared out the window. “They said she…offed herself.”

Stacy bit her lip. “Don’t use that term, please pumpkin, it’s a little…disrespectful. But…yes, that’s what I was told, too.”

“Do you…think that ghosts can talk to each other?” Mathew asked. “Do they all know each other? You think this lady would know Dad?”

This was a tricky space to navigate. Stacy stayed silent for a bit. “Well…maybe they do, maybe they don’t. They…did live in different countries, but maybe things like that don’t matter to them. We can’t really know.” Her voice was soft. “Are you…you know you can talk to me about anything, right Matt?”

Mathew nodded. He didn’t say anything else on the drive. Ten minutes later, Stacy pulled up to the primary school. Five minutes later, the kids all walked out. She spotted Larkin, and waved at him. He was silent as he walked up to the car and climbed inside, sitting next to Mathew.

“Hey sweetie,” Stacy said, putting enthusiasm in her voice. “How was school?”

“Good.” Larkin joined Mathew in staring out the window.

“Did you talk to anyone? Make any new friends?”

“Yeah, a few people. I don’t know if we’re friends yet.”

“I bet you could be!”

“Yeah.”

This was…odd. Larkin wasn’t usually this quiet. “How’s your teacher? What’s her name?”

A silent moment. “Ms. Bloomberg. She’s…okay.”

And Larkin continued to give short answers all the way back home. Once inside, he ran upstairs and shut the door to their shared room, leaving Mathew to hang out in the living room. Stacy watched Lark go, not bothering to hide her concern. She made spaghetti for dinner that night. It was Larkin’s favorite, and she hoped to cheer him up. It didn’t work, but when she brought out the ice cream he perked up considerably.

“Hey Lark,” Mathew said, stabbing his bowl of vanilla with the spoon. “Did you know we live in a ghost house?”

Stacy gave Mathew a look, one of the ones that said not to go there. But then Larkin piped up, “Uh-huh. There’s a ghost here.”

She then immediately turned to look at Larkin. “Oh? Have you seen this ghost?”

“A couple times, yeah.” Larkin shoved a spoon of chocolate in his mouth before answering. “He’s a sad ghost, he walks all over the place but then he disappears. I said hi to him, and he said hi back. Then he went away.”

“Interesting.” Stacy filed this under the “to-be-concerned-about-if-something-seems-off” part in her brain. It could just be Larkin’s new imaginary friend. He had one once before, a talking dog named Boots. But he said he went away two years ago to find his family. So, she wouldn’t be worried unless something happened. But she took note of it.

* * *

**Night Sixty-Five in the New House**

—————

Stacy woke up in the middle of the night, for a reason she couldn’t understand. Her initial reaction was to keep her eyes closed and try to go back to sleep. She’d gotten a new job at the grocery store, and its hours were long. She was exhausted, and needed the sleep.

But then she felt something pressing on her chest.

Dimly, she registered this as a problem. Breathing was difficult. In her tired mind, she thought that maybe she should roll over onto her side and that would fix it.

“ _hey…_ ”

It was one of those whispers in the night, the ones she’d been hearing lately. But this one seemed less like something between the worlds of waking and dreaming, and more like something firmly real.

“ _i know you’re awake._ ”

She couldn’t really identify the voice. It wasn’t anyone she knew, so she assumed—hoped—that it was her imagination. If she had to put an age and gender to it, she would guess it was a man her age, but it would be just a guess.

“ _can you hear me?_ ”

It was definitely a whisper. And it was definitely really there. She struggled to breathe through the weight, as well as the sudden terror that gripped her.

“ _can you say something? please?_ ” 

Something brushed against her hair. And that convinced her to open her eyes.

There was something in front of her. It was sitting on her chest. It could probably feel her heart beating a mile a minute. She stared frozen at the figure, taking in its reaching hand and the tear tracks trailing down its face. And then she managed to scream.

It vanished, the weight on her chest disappearing. She bolted upright, arms and blankets flailing. Her eyes darted around the room. Where is it? Where is it?! She cast her hand to the side and turned on her lamp. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand where it was charging and dialed a number, panting heavily.

After a long time ringing, it was picked up. “Hello?”

“Janet! I-I-I—” Stacy couldn’t get the words out. Tears were coming to her eyes. “I-I-I—”

“Whoa, Stace, hun, calm down.” Janet’s voice was soothing. “What’s got you so upset?”

After a few more seconds of calming her hyperventilating, Stacy managed to choke out, “I-I think I just saw something.”

“Something?” Janet asked, confused. “What something?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Stacy shook her head, even though she knew Janet couldn’t see her. “I-I woke up, and I—and I couldn’t breathe and there was something on my chest. And I heard something whisper, and—and I opened my eyes and there was a thing in front of me—” She broke off, trying to control her breathing again.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay, Stace,” Janet reassured her. “Whatever happened, it’s over now. Sounds like you had a real scare.”

Stacy wiped at her eyes. “Y-yeah…Wh…what was that?”

“I don’t know, hun, but…have you ever heard of sleep paralysis?”

“Isn’t that where you can’t move?”

“Yes, but sometimes people see weird things. You know, hallucinations. They could be really scary. I had sleep paralysis real bad when I was a teenager, and a lot of the time it felt like there was a weight on my chest. Does that sound like what happened?”

“I…I guess.” Stacy nodded. That made sense. That was probably all it was. “Do you think it can be caused by stress?”

“Maybe. If it happens again, maybe you can talk to someone about it. Like, a doctor.”

“Maybe. I’m…I’ll Google it in the morning.” That seemed like the best idea.

“Want me to stay on the line?” Janet offered. “I got up to check on Maggie, but I can stay up.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Get some sleep.”

“You too. Get a good night’s rest. Good night, Stacy.”

“Good night.”

Yet she couldn’t get to sleep until she heard the early morning birds chirping.

* * *

**Day Seventy-One in the New House**

—————

Larkin had been in his room ever since she picked him up from school. It was now almost dinner time, and she was getting worried. She headed upstairs and knocked on the door. “Hey Lark? It’s almost time to eat, what do you want?”

For a moment, there was silence. “I don’t know, Mom.”

Definitely not normal. Larkin always asked for something; usually pasta, it was his favorite. “Do you mind if I come inside, sweetie?”

A long bit of silence. “Okay.”

She gently pushed the door open. Larkin was lying on his bed with his face buried in the pillow. She walked over and sat on the side of the small mattress. “Are you doing okay, sweetie?”

Larkin nodded, keeping his face buried.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

He shook his head.

She quieted for a moment, thinking. “Lark, can you look at me?” He suddenly hunched his shoulders, and she hurried to add, “Only if you want to, of course.”

That seemed to help. Larkin sat up, rubbing at his eyes. They were red. He’d obviously been crying.

“Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked quietly. “Is it friends? Or school?”

Larkin suddenly started crying. “Ms. Bloomberg.”

“Your teacher? Do you not like her?”

He shook his head. “She’s mean, Mom.” 

“Hey.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “How is she mean? Did she do something?”

Tears slipped down Larkin’s face. “She calls me L-Landon instead of my name. A-and she won’t stop when I tell her to. Yesterday she…she said she wasn’t gonna call me a for-aim name.”

“What?! A foreign name?” Stacy shook her head, baffled. “That’s ridiculous.”

“And she—she thinks I’m cheating in math.” Larkin hid his face in his mother’s blouse. “Because I-I don’t do good in English.”

“Did she say that?”

“No, b-but she always puts red marks on math questions I know I did right. An-and I asked her why, and she said she’s making my math scores meet my English ones.” He took a shaky breath. “Bec-cause those ones are the ‘right’ ones.”

Stacy patted Larkin’s back. She wasn’t looking at the door, but she knew Mathew was standing there. “That’s awful. Tell you what? I’ll go to talk to her after dinner and get this sorted out. Would that help?”

Larkin nodded.

“Alright, sweetie. Now. What if I made spaghetti for dinner?”

“That sounds good, Mom.”

“Alright.” She planned on staying there a few moments more, to make sure Larkin was okay. But she turned toward the doorway, planning to ask Mathew to leave. But her request died in her throat. Nobody was there. Strange…she could’ve sworn she felt a presence. Like someone was watching her. Maybe Mathew had left.

Stacy did indeed make spaghetti for dinner, then called Janet to ask her to watch the kids. Once Janet came over, leaving her daughter, Maggie, with her husband, Stacy got in the car and drove over to the teacher’s address. It was clearly printed in the school directory, which she found kind of strange, but who was she to tell the school how to run?

It was that strange time of day between sunset and evening when she pulled up to the curb outside Nancy Bloomberg’s house. Stacy got out of her car, locking it behind her, and walked up the path to the front door. She rang the doorbell. After a minute of no response, she rang again. After another minute, she went to knock, and when her knuckles hit the door, it opened. Just a bit. Enough to show it had already been open a little, and the force of the knock caused it to swing inward. Stacy hesitated, then pushed the door open a bit. “Hello? Ms. Bloomberg?”

No answer. There was a car in the driveway, so she assumed Ms. Bloomberg was home. She swallowed, and pushed the door open all the way. “Hello?”

It’s then that she saw the puddle of red liquid.

She was curious enough to step inside the house and head toward it. At first, she thought it was spilled wine, reminiscent of the scene in her own house when she first moved in.

And then she looked into the kitchen and realized it wasn’t wine.

* * *

**Day Seventy-Two in the New House**

—————

She’d called the police, of course. And she’d called Janet, to explain what happened and why she would be late. The cops asked her what she saw, and why she was here, and she replied that she’d been paying her son’s teacher a visit. She told them she’d just found the body once she realized the door was open. They believed her.

It was a Saturday, and the kids were home from school. Mathew was playing some game on his Xbox in the living room while Larkin sat on the floor and colored with crayons. Stacy poked her head inside to check on them. “How’re you guys doing?”

“Good, Mom,” Mathew said.

“Good, Mom,” Larkin said cheerfully.

“What’re you drawing?” Stacy walked over.

“This!” Larkin held up the drawing for her to see.

Stacy stopped, staring. This was…this was impossible. But…no, it was impossible. It would be concerning on its own, but she recognized it. The scribble of red on the crayon floor, the yellow dress and black hair on the lying-down figure…it was exactly what she saw yesterday. “Lark…where did you get the idea for that?”

“The ghost told me about it,” Larkin explained.

“The ghost?”

“The sad ghost who lives in our house!” Larkin explained. “He told me a story last night about a mean lady taking a nap in red paint, so I drew it.”

“…ah.” Stacy looked over at Mathew, who paused the game to look at Larkin, a bit concerned as well. “That’s…that’s interesting.”

“You know the ghost, right, Mom?” Larkin asked. “He goes in your room sometimes. Right through the door.”

Her heart was pumping ice. “I’ve never seen him, sweetie.”

“Aw.” Larkin went back to coloring. “He seems nice.”

Stacy nodded, smiling, and left the room.

She called the police again.

* * *

**Day Seventy-Three in the New House**

—————

“So you’re saying your son killed her?”

“No, of course not! He’s seven! But he did hear about what happened…somehow.”

“What about your other son? How old is he?”

“Thirteen. But he couldn’t have done anything!”

“Would he be protective of his younger brother?”

“W-well, I mean, yes, but it’s impossible! He was with my friend Janet all evening, and before that he was with me.”

“So how do you think your son knew about what happened?”

“I’m not sure. He said the ghost in our house told him about it.”

“Does your son know anyone who could be considered ‘a ghost’? Like an older man?”

“No…not that I know of.”

“…we’ll be looking into this, ma’am.”


	14. Guardian Angel - Part Two

**Night Ninety in the New House**

—————

Stacy was pretending to be asleep, keeping her eyes firmly shut and her breathing even. She wanted to check the time—surely it had to be three a.m. at least. It couldn’t be earlier than that.

There were whispers in her head.

She couldn’t say what they were saying, not exactly. She had the vague sense that they were like fog, filling her brain. A heavy fog dragging her down. Occasionally a memory would flash across her mind. Not good ones. Ones she’d rather forget, actually.

“ _hey. i know you’re awake._ ”

The time she’d left the house for work in the morning, trusting the babysitter would arrive on time. But the sitter had been an hour late, and in that time period, five-year-old Larkin had managed to fall off a stool, trying to reach a high-up shelf, and broken his arm. She’d gotten the call from the sitter at the hospital. She’d felt like a failure, staring down at her son’s cast.

“ _why don’t you ever answer me?_ ”

She rolled over, sticking her arm out in an effort to reach a more comfortable position. In her head, she recalled the night she’d got the news. The night she’d been up late, waiting for him to come home. She stared at the phone, noticing repeated calls from a number, but not the number she was looking for. Then the police officer came to her house, saying something about there being an accident. She should’ve answered the phone. And how was she supposed to tell the kids?

Something grabbed her hand. Something that should’ve felt like a human hand, but it was too cold, a layer of dust covering its palm. She tried not to shudder. If she didn’t react, maybe it would go away.

“ _i want you to stay with me…_ ” 

“ _will you stay with me? will all of you stay?_ ”

The memory of the first time she’d tried drowning her tears. A bottle of whiskey, late at night when she thought they’d both be asleep. She thought it had worked. A little bit of a buzz, and she was forgetting what all the fuss was about in the first place. But Mathew was awake. And seeing him had reminded her. She didn’t remember what she said, but she remembered it was in anger. She’d apologized the next morning. But it wasn’t enough. She was never enough.

“ _you’re going to stay with me. i love company._ ”

She must’ve fallen asleep eventually. When she woke up, she thought it had been another dream. Another hallucination brought on by sleep paralysis. But then she twitched her fingers, clutching them into a fist. And it felt…off. She opened her eyes, and her hand. There was a layer of gray dust on her palm.

* * *

**Day Ninety-One in the New House**

—————

Stacy called a therapist, made an appointment for Wednesday. She approached it with the idea that this was all in her head. Which would be…difficult enough to deal with on its own. With two kids to take care of, could she worry about losing her mind?

But she kept coming back to the gray dust. It was there. It was definitely there. She’d washed her hand, but not before finding a mason jar in the kitchen and doing her best to wipe the dust into it. She got some of it…and it was _definitely_ there.

Larkin had said there was a ghost in the house. A ghost that went into her room sometimes. A ghost that told him that his teacher was killed, the day after it happened.

The kids were at school. She grabbed her jacket, and a moment later, unlocked the special drawer in her dresser, grabbing her handgun and shoulder holster as well. She threw the jacket on over the holster, and left the house, walking across the street and knocking on the door of the house opposite hers.

Janet opened the door with a smile. “Oh hey, Stace. You okay, hun? You look a little…” She waved her hand in front of her face. “…pale.”

Stacy laughed. “I…you’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

Janet sensed this was a serious matter. Her smile dropped. “Why don’t you come inside, hun?”

The living room was small and cozy, pictures of Janet and Martín’s relatives on the walls. Janet set Stacy down on the sofa, bringing her a plate of cookies—“biscuits,” she called them. Stacy took one, but didn’t eat. Janet sat down in an armchair across from her. “Now. What’s wrong?”

That was all it took for the whole story to come spilling out. The sleep paralysis episodes, the whispers she’d been hearing that she attributed to stress, the stories her son told about a ghost, the times she’d found strange bottles of alcohol in her house that she knew she hadn’t brought there, and all culminating in her waking up, with dust on her hand in the same place she could’ve sworn someone was holding it last night. At the end of it all, Stacy realized she’d started crying. She hurriedly wiped her face. “I-I know it sounds crazy,” she said. “I’m going to see a therapist next week, but…I-I don’t know, I just needed to tell someone else.”

Janet had been silent the whole time. Now, she looked down at her hands in her lap. “It…it does sound strange, hun, but…well, some of this can’t be a coincidence.”

Stacy let out a deep breath. “I-I know, it is a bit weird—”

“No, I mean…” Janet inhaled deeply, and looked back up. “You remember the person who lived in that house before you did?”

“Emily?” Stacy asked.

“Yeah, Emily Kendrik.” Janet nodded. “A week before she…well. A week before it happened, she showed up at Helen’s house—she’s the head of the Homeowner’s Association. Emily complained about there being a lot of dust in her house. Helen said that wasn’t a problem for the HOA, and Emily showed up here.” Janet bit her lip. “She talked about that, and the fact that she kept hearing things at night…and how broken beer bottles were showing up in her fridge.”

Stacy’s eyes widened. “I—I swear I didn’t know this—”

“No, of course you didn’t,” Janet waved away. “Helen might’ve laughed about the dust thing with her friends, but I never told anyone about what Emily said to me. I mean…” she laughed nervously. “H-how could I have? When a week later, Emily was found…like that.” She tried to say it as delicately as possible.

Stacy put the biscuit she was still holding down on the plate. “So…I-I’m not the only one who’s had this…happen?”

“Apparently not.” Janet looked…well, worried was a mild way of putting it. “I think maybe your son’s right. Maybe your house is haunted.”

All Stacy could do was stare at nothing. Her whole world had just been flipped on its head. “What am I supposed to do?” She asked hoarsely. “Call a priest?”

“I mean, I think that’s what people usually do when there’s a thing in their house.”

Stacy suddenly started. “Wait, what did you say?”

Janet blinked, confused. “I said I think that’s what people usually do when there’s a thing in their house.”

That phrase was ringing a bell. Stacy cast her memory back, trying to think of where she’d heard it, and why it seemed so memorable.

_There’s a thing in your house. It moves in the windows sometimes._

Stacy suddenly stood up. “I-I just remembered something. I’ll talk to you later, Janet.”

“Oh, uh…alright. Talk to you later, Stace.”

Stacy wasn’t even listening as she left. Quickly, she walked across the street back to her house. Digging in her pocket for her wallet and car keys, she devised a plan. It was still morning, she didn’t have to pick up the kids for a while. Plenty of time to find a guy whose name she didn’t know.

* * *

The city had two different parks, but she decided it would be a better bet to search the bigger one first. And it was. In one corner of the park, the one that had a particularly high amount of trees, she found a small green tent set up, vaguely dome-shaped, probably only big enough for one person. She…wasn’t sure how to check if anyone was home. Did you knock on a tent? That seemed like a good idea. She walked right up to the tent, found an area that looked like a door, and hit it a couple times with her fist like she was knocking on a house door. “Hello?” she asked.

There was a sudden yelp, and the walls of the tent moved as someone inside scrambled about. The door area unzipped, and a man climbed out, standing up and looking around wildly. Stacy backed away as she realized the man was holding a pocket knife—and a rather big one, as well. The man’s eyes—or, eye, the other one was covered by a black patch—landed on her, and he relaxed. “Jesus christ, you fucking scared me,” he breathed, folding the pocket knife closed. “Don’t do that. I thought you were coming to take me.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Stacy smiled shakily. “Um, are you…I mean, I don’t know your name, but my friend called you John?”

“Yeah, that works, it’s the closest yet,” the man said, shoving the knife in the pocket of his green jacket.

“Uh…okay. John.” Stacy swallowed nervously. “I…don’t know if you remember me—”

“You’re the lady in the house across from Martín’s, the one with two kids, boys,” John said, as if he was reciting words from a cue card. “Yeah, I remember you.”

“…oh.” Stacy fought the urge to take a step backwards. This guy was really unnerving her. But what was unnerving her more was the thought of what was happening back in her home. “Well. My name is Stacy. You…a couple months ago, you were outside my house, and I talked to you, and you said something about there being ‘a thing’ in my house. I-I was just wondering…why did you say that?”

“Cause there’s a thing in your house,” John stated clearly. “It’s in the windows. But I mean, it kind of disappears when anyone else tries to look at it.”

Stacy realized that sounded insane. She then realized she might be going insane, but decided to keep going anyway. “A thing like a ghost?”

John burst into laughter, doubling over with the force of it. Stacy took a step backwards, waiting for him to finish. After what must’ve been a solid thirty seconds, John managed to stop himself. He straightened, and grinned widely at Stacy. “No, not like a ghost. Ghosts might not even exist. I’ve never seen one. Unless you count the souls of the damned that are trapped in the mist of an Irish forest. No, this is much worse than a ghost.” His grin faded slowly. “…and…you’re actually looking at me seriously. Like, this doesn’t sound like complete bullshit to you.”

“I mean, it does,” Stacy admitted. “But after what’s been happening, I think bullshit is my new reality.”

“…huh.” John blinked, staring at her. One blue eye looked over her, its gaze piercing.

“I think…I need your help?” It came out like a question. “Things have been happening…c-crazy things.” She laughed.

“…well, then.” John grinned. “We can talk. But on one condition.” At Stacy’s sudden wide eyes, he hurried to say, “Nothing too big. I just want to see if you could buy lunch, or something? We can talk at a restaurant…or something. Not like, McDonald’s. I’ve had enough of that.” He smiled a bit.

“Oh. Um, okay. Yeah.” That didn’t sound too bad. If anything happened, she did have a gun. “C’mon, I know a place.”

They ended up at a local diner, fairly crowded. Stacy wondered if that was gonna be a good idea, given what they would be talking about. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. But then again, maybe it would be too loud for anyone to hear anything. And given the looks John was attracting, maybe anyone who did hear would think she was just humoring his crazy ideas.

It would be a while until the food they ordered actually arrived, so Stacy got right to business. “What you were saying back there. What do you mean, worse than a ghost?” she asked, jumping right into the topic. “Like, a demon?”

“Well, to me, the word ‘demon’ kind of…implies something specific.” John was scratching his nails into the wooden table, seemingly not caring about the marks it was leaving. “Like…there’s a specific idea to it, y’know? Maybe that’s ‘cause of religion or something, I don’t know, but even if you’re not religious, you have a sort of concept in your head of what a demon is.” He chuckled. “These things…don’t really fit into a category. They’re more like horror movie monsters come to life.”

“That’s…not encouraging,” Stacy admitted.

John laughed. “Life isn’t as safe as you thiiiink it is!” he said in a singsong voice. “There’s so many different ways you can get fucked up!”

“…okay, then. That’s even less encouraging.” Stacy scooted her chair back a bit.

John’s smile faded. “Sorry.” He paused. “If it’s any consolation, you…you really did just have bad luck. The odds of actually running into one of these things is relatively small. You just…chose the wrong city.”

Stacy looked down at the tabletop. “My grandma grew up here. She never mentioned the…I don’t know, cryptid horror monster.”

“Well, to be fair, most people wouldn’t. Even if they knew, they’d probably say something like, ‘oh it’s not safe to be out on the streets at night’ or some shit like that. I mean, come on. Would you?”

“You talked to me about it,” Stacy pointed out. “Even before I came to you about it.”

“Yeah, and you thought I was insane.” John shrugged. “Which I mean…jury’s still out on that.”

Stacy laughed nervously, and shook her head. “We’re getting off track. Do you know anything about this…this thing in my house?”

John scrunched his brows, thinking. “Well, I know it straight-up disappears when you look at it in the window. And I haven’t seen it outside anywhere. Have you?”

The waiter arrived, bringing over their drinks. Stacy quietly thanked him, and John did too. The waiter ignored him, though, just talking to her to say the food will be coming out soon. Once he walked away, Stacy returned to their conversation.

“Outside anywhere? Like, outside my house? Um…” Stacy cast her mind back over the last three months. “Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t. I-I mean, when I’m in my house I sometimes see shadows in the corner of my eyes. And I hear these…whispers.” She shuddered. “But it’s never when I’m at work, or when I’m picking up the kids from school, or running errands.”

“So it’s probably confined to a single space,” John said. He took a sip of his Coke. “Some of them are like that, but others travel about.”

“Okay…” Stacy nodded. “So…what should I do about it?”

John shrugged. “Well, I don’t know, exactly. I’ve only been here five months, and I didn’t see it until I stopped outside your house the day you moved in. But I can give you a suggestion.”

“Alright. What’s that?”

“Leave. Like, right now.”

“Wh—” Stacy spluttered. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” John looked genuinely surprised.

“Because we _just_ moved here! The kids are still adjusting, I’m still adjusting—”

“Perfect, you won’t have anything to miss!” John laughed.

“No! You can’t handle two moves in such a short period! What would that do to the kids? Mathew has a hard enough time making friends already, and Larkin is only eight, he wouldn’t be able to understand.” Not to mention that she didn’t know if she could get another job, or another house. Or any new friends of her own. “Isn’t there anything else we can do? How do we get rid of it?”

John’s face suddenly fell. He leaned across the table, getting closer. “Do you know what it wants with you?”

She felt like the breath was knocked out of her. “I…I don’t know,” she said quietly.

His head tilted. “Have you picked up on anything? Any sort of intentions?”

She paused, thinking about this. “Um…well…th-the last person who lived in the house…she was—I mean, I figured out she was haunted by the thing, too. And she…um, she committed suicide.” She went quiet for a moment. “Do you think it was because of this?”

“Probaby,” John said casually. “Either it drove her to it, or it killed her and framed it.”

Stacy felt her heart stop. “I-I can’t—” She shook her head. “I can’t let that—my kids—”

“I see.” John nodded. His expression softened. “It would be hard for them. And obviously for you, too. So…” He leaned back. “That’s why you gotta leave. As soon as possible.”

“…maybe.” Stacy settled back in her seat. “I…I guess I could start looking for some place to live. Find a new job.”

John sighed. “Look, the longer you stay here, the more at risk you are. You need to get out before it gets to you.”

“I can’t just leave, though. With no support, no way to get income? What would happen then?”

“Um, you wouldn’t die. That seems better than anything else.”

“It’s not just about me, though,” Stacy said quietly. “I’m the only one who can look after Mathew and Larkin. We have no other family, a-and C—my husband, he’s…” She swallows the lump in her throat. “…he’s gone now. They need me.”

John’s expression softened in a way it hadn’t yet. “…I see.” He sighed. “I…I guess that makes sense. Just…just get out. As soon as possible.”

“Isn’t there anything else?” Stacy asked. “Can we get rid of it?”

John laughed, the sound hysterical. “If you find a way to, please tell me! Because I haven’t yet, and I’d love to hear it!” He sighed again. “I’m sorry, but you really just need to leave.”

Stacy felt her heart sink. But she nodded. “…okay, then.” She swallowed nervously. “Maybe we should just move back to the U.S., then we could avoid all this.”

“I mean, they exist in the states, too,” John said, shrugging. “They exist all over the world. But if you want to avoid the one that currently has its eye on you—wait, does it have eyes?”

Stacy blinked, surprised. “Um..well, I’ve seen it crying.”

“That doesn’t help.” John shook his head. “Well, anyway, it’s just a metaphor. If you want to go to the states to avoid this one, go ahead.” He smiled. “But once you’ve gotten involved in things like this, you tend to…see more.”

The waiter arrived with their food. John immediately began eating, tucking into his sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in a while. Which, Stacy realized, he might not have. “How do you know all this stuff?” She asked quietly.

John took a moment to answer, swallowing the bite he’d taken. “Experience,” he said with a dull smile. “I was a lot like you, once. But I wasn’t lucky enough to have someone there to give me advice.” He fell quiet for a moment, eye darkening with shadows. “Just…just get out, okay?”

Stacy nodded, not saying anything else.

* * *

**Day One Hundred in the New House**

—————

It was getting worse. Stacy had decided to ignore it, for the time being, but she could tell it was getting worse. She could hear the whispers whenever she was alone in the house, always in the back of her mind. The shadow of the thing would linger in her peripheral vision, watching her. The longer it stayed, the more details she could make out. And sometimes, she walked past the boys’ room and heard Larkin talking to someone when Mathew was still downstairs.

It seemed like John was right; leaving was starting to look like the best option. Stacy began looking for options online for places to move to. But only outside the house. She didn’t want to risk the thing catching onto what she was planning, so she’d take her laptop and go sit on a bench in the park, browsing houses for sale in nearby cities. She also continued a job search online, looking for openings in those same cities and applying to anything she could find, just in case they moved to the area.

She did tell Janet about her plans. In person, at Janet’s house. Luckily, the other woman was understanding. “If you told me a week ago, I would’ve asked you to reconsider it, after some therapy,” she said. “But with your problems lining up with Emily’s, I…I’m the one who’s reconsidering.” She chuckled nervously.

“I probably should talk to someone anyway,” Stacy sighed. “I did cancel the appointment I made, but I can make a new one in the new city.”

“That sounds like a good idea, hun,” Janet said, patting Stacy’s shoulder. “And if you ever need a friend, you’ll still have my number.”

Stacy smiled softly. “Thanks, Jan. Hey…whoever moves in after I leave, just…look out for them, okay?”

Janet nodded. “I will, don’t worry.”

* * *

**Day One Hundred Sixteen in the New House**

—————

Finally, Stacy found something.

A lovely little house, in a city two hours away. She got the feeling that it was being advertised as being far away from the current town, but it didn’t seem too far to her. The house was cheap, though she’d still have to dip into her savings, and big enough for her and the boys. The realtor offered for her to come and take a look, but she said that she preferred to purchase now, thank you very much. That probably hiked up the price offer a bit, but she didn’t care. They had to get out of here.

She tried to break the news to the boys gently, taking them out to dinner and telling them there. Larkin seemed to accept it, but Mathew kept asking questions.

“Why are we moving? We just got here!”

“It’s complicated, pumpkin. I’ll explain later.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a town called Rysbuwich. A little ridiculous sounding, but it’s a good town.”

“Can we come back here?”

“We can come to visit, sure, it’s just a couple hours away.”

Eventually, Mathew seemed satisfied as well. He had his one friend’s number and email saved on his phone, so the two of them could still chat, and he could still come visit for events and such. That must’ve been what convinced him.

But then Larkin piped up with a question: “What about the ghost? Are we gonna leave him?”

Stacy smiled tightly, hoping it didn’t seem too forced. “Well, I suppose we’re gonna have to.”

“Aw…” Larkin looked down at the restaurant table. “He’s a lonely ghost, he’ll be all alone and sad.”

“Well, someone else will move in soon enough, so he won’t be lonely anymore.” Or maybe the house would stay empty. Hopefully that would be the case.

* * *

**Day One Hundred Twenty in the New House**

—————

She knew that once she told the kids, she wouldn’t be able to keep the move a secret from the thing in the house for long. Mathew and Larkin would be talking casually about the move with each other, and she couldn’t tell them to just stop doing that and not explain why. So she waited to tell them only a few days before the moving truck arrived.

And arrive, it did. She’d managed to get the boys to pack up all their stuff the night before, and they spent the morning helping the movers put the boxes and furniture in the truck.

There had been no whispers or shadows that whole morning, or the night before. And though that sounded like a good thing, it put Stacy on edge.

“Alright, that’s everything,” she said cheerfully, trying to hide her worry from the kids. “Say goodbye to the house.”

“Um…yeah,” Mathew said, shifting awkwardly.

“Goodbye house!” Larkin said, waving. “Goodbye ghost!”

Stacy tried not to flinch. “Alright, let’s go.” Stacy slung her purse over her shoulder, reaching inside for her car keys. But there was nothing. She opened it, staring inside and pawing through. They weren’t there. But she was sure they’d just been there…

Her heart froze.

“Shoot.” She looked back at the kids. “You guys go ahead, okay? I misplaced my keys, and I’m gonna look for them.”

Mathew nodded. “Alright, Mom. C’mon, Lark.”

The two of them disappeared through the front door, closing it behind them but not closing it all the way. Stacy didn’t bother to close it the rest of the way. She swallowed nervously, and turned back, into the house.

The rooms were empty now, completely void of any decoration. It looked emptier than when they first moved in, since the house had come pre-furnished. But now, they were taking the furniture with them. And all that was left were faded spots on the walls where there used to be chairs, pressed carpet where beds stood. There weren’t a lot of places for her keys to be. They were nowhere in the living room or the first floor hallway, neither on the floor or hanging from the hooks left where photographs used to hang. She headed towards the kitchen to look next.

Stacy was immediately met with an overwhelming sharp smell. She gagged, covering her mouth. The floor was wet, covered in puddles of pale amber liquid. It was trickling from the water main where the fridge was once plugged in, dripping down the cabinet doors, pooling on the tiles. But she saw her keys sitting on the counter. She took a deep breath and walked forward, trying to step over the worst puddles.

The keys were in the middle of the counter. Somehow, in the thirty minutes since she was last in the kitchen, the faux marble countertop had become incredibly dusty, a layer of gray covering its surface. She picked up the keys, stuffing them in her purse.

And then there was a hand on her shoulder.

“ _where are you going?_ ”

Stacy stiffened, shrugging off the hand. She could feel it standing right behind her. She couldn’t turn around to look at it, so she headed to the open doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room. It followed her, staying close behind. It was close enough that she should be able to feel its breath on her neck. But there was nothing. Somehow, that was worse.

“ _you’re leaving…_ ”

The dining room was completely empty, scuff marks on the wooden floor where the table and chairs had been. There were dust motes flying through the air, suspended in the beams of sunlight drifting through the windows. Stacy coughed, and quickly circled around the perimeter of the room, feeling it close behind her. She headed back towards the kitchen entrance.

“ _please don’t leave…_ ”

She sidestepped around the puddles on the floor again, heading back towards the hallway.

It grabbed her shoulder again.

She shook it off, and it grabbed her wrist.

She couldn’t help but yelp this time. Deliberately not looking backwards, she pulled her arm away and ran for the entrance again. She was two steps into the hallway when it grabbed her. Its arms wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides.

“ _stay with me…_ ” It whispered into her ear. “ _Forever_.”

Stacy didn’t bother to answer. She wriggled against its hold, but it squeezed tighter, choking out her breath. Her foot kicked backwards and connected with something solid, but it didn’t react at all. She struggled to breathe, chest rising and falling. Every time she breathed out, it tightened its hold, giving her less and less room to gasp for air. Black spots were starting to appear before her eyes.

With one last breath, she wrenched her head to the side to look at the thing behind her. She caught sight of a face, liquid trailing down like tears. And then it disappeared. Bending over, she breathed deeply, gulping down as much air as possible. She didn’t even wait to fully recover to run down the hall, back towards the living room and the front door.

She made it to the front room when her vision flickered, and it appeared in front of her. She skidded to a halt, but then it disappeared. It grabbed her from behind again, but this time she shook it off, running for the door.

When she was halfway across the room, the thing started to scream.

No, it wasn’t a scream, it was a wail. A long, keening sound that started on the edge of her hearing and grew to fill her entire mind. She staggered, pressing her hands to her ears. But the sound didn’t lessen. It was like a drill spinning into her brain, a sound that dragged down her heart and filled it with longing.

 _Stay,_ it said. _Stay, please stay,_ it said in a voice that wasn’t hers, and it wasn’t the voice of the whispers either. _Stay with me, Stacy,_ it said, mimicking perfectly the voice she’d never thought she’d hear again. _Please stay, Stacy, please I’m so lonely, stay, stay_ —

Stacy turned the knob of the front door and burst outside. The wail suddenly cut off, leaving her strangely breathless. Tears were flowing from her eyes. And for a moment, she still heard that voice, speaking from a place of deep grief. But she knew it wasn’t really him. “You’re gone,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I need to stay here. Maybe I’ll see you again one day. But not before it’s time.”

“Mom? What are you doing?”

“What’s happening?”

She took a deep breath, and then straightened. Mathew and Larkin were standing by the car, staring at her with identical wide eyes. “I just had a moment there,” she said softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Strangely enough, neither of them pressed the matter. Maybe they didn’t want to think about their mom crying. Stacy promised herself she’d tell them what happened one day. Some time in the future, when they were old enough to understand.

* * *

Heading out of the city, they drove past one of the parks. As they did, Stacy suddenly got an impulsive, probably stupid idea. She parked the car, asked Mathew and Larkin to wait, then headed out to the spot she remembered.

The tent was still there. This time the doorway was unzipped. John was laying on the ground, half inside the tent, half outside, turning a small wooden flute over in his hands. He heard her footsteps approaching, and looked up, grinning. “Oh it’s you again. How’re things working out with the thing?”

Stacy walked right up to the tent, stopping a couple feet away. “Pack up your tent and stuff, we’re leaving.”

“Um…” John blinked up at her, suddenly wary. “Are you gonna kill me? Cause if you are, at least tell me beforehand so I can prepare. I mean, I’m not gonna let you, but—”

“What the hell? No!” Stacy shook her head, shocked. “Sorry, my boys are waiting, so I want to hurry instead of leaving them alone. Anyway, we’re leaving. Like you suggested. And I-I mean, if you hadn’t suggested that, I don’t think I would’ve ever…well.” She paused. “So I thought I could, I don’t know, repay you by offering for you to…I don’t know, stay with us? Not in a romantic capacity, of course,” she hurried to add. “You’re not really my type.”

John stared up at her. “You want _me_ …to come live with _you_.”

“Yeah.” Stacy shrugged. “I mean, only if you want to. It’s the least I can do.”

“You…really don’t want me to come live with you,” John said. “Trust me.”

“Why?”

“Just…you just don’t.”

“Well the new house should have room,” Stacy remembered. “And if you don’t want to stay in a house, you can just put your tent in the yard. Because apparently a lot of places in this country don’t have yards, what do you know? Lots of urban areas, not a lot of suburban ones. But anyway, I figured it would be…nice, to not have to worry about…a lot of things.” She smiled softly.

“I mean, it would,” John admitted. “But there will still be things to worry about. Things that you really, really don’t want to be bothered with.”

“What, you mean like your criminal record?” Stacy asked. “Yeah, I know about that. I just—I think that if—”

“I don’t have any records,” John muttered. “Listen, do you have a computer?”

That was an odd question. “Um, yes, I have my laptop and we have a desktop too.”

“And you have a smart phone? Do your kids have smart phones?”

“I do, yes, but they don’t. Mathew has a flip phone, but I’m not getting him a smart phone until his next birthday. Then Larkin can have the flip phone for emergencies.”

This clearly wasn’t the answer John was looking for. “Look, it’s best for both of us that I don’t go anywhere near you. We had a small visit, but that’s it. Good luck on your…life. I guess.”

Stacy frowned, not one to give up. “Look, I can tell this isn’t…a good situation for you. You don’t even have to interact with me that much if you don’t want to. But you saved my fucking life, so stop being stubborn and let me pay you back.”

John kept staring at her. Then he sighed. “Fine. I’ve been in this town for long enough, anyway. You can give me a ride to wherever you’re going.” He crawled out of the tent and stood up, stretching. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.”

Stacy nodded, smiling brightly. “Great. Thanks, John.”

“‘Thanks’? Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” He chuckled. “Here, hold this.” He tossed the flute at Stacy, and she fumbled to catch it.

“You play the flute?” She asked, examining it.

“I’m trying to. I used to play drums but, you know, it’s not quite portable to have a drum set around.”

“I played bass once. I should take it back up.”

“You do that.”

A few minutes later, Stacy was back in the car, introducing John to Mathew and Larkin, saying he was a friend of hers. Larkin, being the friendly kid he was, cheerfully took to the stranger, but Mathew seemed a bit wary.

“Is your name really John?” Mathew asked, leaning forward from the back seat to talk to John in the passenger’s side.

“No, but you wouldn’t remember my name anyways.”

“What happened to your eye?”

“Ah well you see it’s a long story,” John said grinning. “Starting with both of my eyes bleeding and ending with this one getting sewn shut. And yes, you heard that correctly.”

Mathew glared at him silently for a moment. “Do you like video games?”

“Dude I love video games. I used to play them for a job.”

Mathew considered this. “My favorite’s Breath of the Wild. What’s yours?”

“I like Shadow of the Colossus. You heard of it?”

“Yeah.” Mathew nodded, and settled back. Apparently that had convinced him that this guy was normal enough.

Stacy glanced over at John. “You really think we wouldn’t remember your name?”

“I know you wouldn’t,” John said, staring out the window. “Within a week everyone in this town will forget I was ever here.”

“Surely that’s not tru—”

“It is.”

Stacy fell silent for a moment. “Well, I think you should tell me your name anyway, just in case.”

John sighed a bit, but nodded. “Yeah. Alright.”

The car passed beyond the boundaries of the town. And soon, it wasn’t even visible to the town anymore. The sun set, and life went on as normal, in the small city that hid a secret of its own.

* * *

**Day One Since She Left**

—————

She’d come back.

It was waiting.


	15. Somnum Exterreri

It was snowing when Stacy drove home that evening. In fact, it had been snowing when she went out that afternoon as well. And when she got up for work that morning. It was fair to say that the area was experiencing a snowstorm the likes of which hadn’t been seen in years. There hadn’t been heavy snowfall yet, but Stacy had checked the weather on her phone, and it would soon turn into a blizzard for the night.

After ducking inside real quick to check on the kids and unload the groceries she’d picked up, Stacy went around the back of the house, hopping over the weird brick wall that marked the edge of the property in order to get into the empty lot behind it. As far as she could tell, it was the only empty lot in the whole city, and nobody really paid attention to it. Not even really the group that supposedly owned it. This lack of attention, she supposed, was part of the reason why he’d set up his tent back there. Another part might be that it was close to her house, but she doubted he’d admit that if it was the case.

Whatever the reason, Stacy thought it was nice that he was nearby. She could check on him whenever, see if he was doing alright, offer help if he needed it.

The tent was already weighed down with snow. The pyramid-like shape was helping prevent pile up, but with it having snowed all day, it was inevitable that it would start to gather. Stacy crunched through the layer of snow and knocked on the side of the tent. “John?”

After a minute of silence, there was a rustling sound from inside the tent. The door unzipped, and John poked his head out. “What is it?” he asked.

Stacy frowned. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s snowing.”

“No, I noticed.”

“…okay, then.” Stacy paused. “Are you…going to just stay in a tent all night?”

“Yeah.”

“Uhh…” Stacy pulled her knit hat down over her head. “Forgive me if this is blunt, but that’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah, well.” John disappeared back into the tent. Stacy bent over and peered through the door. The inside was lit up by an electric camping lantern, showing how it was mostly empty, except for a large backpack, an empty duffel bag, and John himself wrapped up in a sleeping bag. “I”ve slept in worse places than a tent while it’s snowing.”

“It’s not just going to be snowing,” Stacy said. “It’s going to be a storm soon. A bad one. So…I think you should come inside.”

John stared up at her. “Inside your house?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh. No.”

“Well why not?” Stacy tried not to sound so snappy.

“Because…because…” John trailed off, seeming at a loss for words for a moment. But then he perked back up. “Okay, I may not be able to think of a specific reason, but if something happens, I’d prefer to be out here.”

“You’d prefer to be out here, freezing to death,” Stacy said bluntly.

“I…” John sighed. He unzipped the sleeping bag and kicked it away. “Alright, fine, I’ll come inside.”

“You should probably take your tent and things inside, too. Jaqueline says that enough snow can collapse a tent, no matter how well it’s set up or how big it is. And it looks like it’s gonna snow all night. Wouldn’t want your things to get wet and cold.”

“Even if the tent collapses, it’s waterproof.” John started rolling up the sleeping bag. “But alright, you’ve got a point. Who’s Jaqueline, by the way? New friend?”

“Uh-huh. She’s super smart and nice and funny and—”

“I get it. Hey, it’s cold, you should go inside. I’ll be in in a second.”

“Well…alright.” Stacy nodded and backed up, turning around to leave.

Things seem to have gone alright with the kids while she was gone. She had to admit she was a bit anxious leaving them alone, but Mathew was thirteen, well old enough to look after himself and his brother for half a day. Though she did have to clean up the dishes from dinner real quick; it looked like the kids had indeed used the money she left them for pizza, and really enjoyed themselves doing it.

It wasn’t long before John came into the house, just long enough for her to tell Mathew and Larkin the situation. They were understanding, luckily. John dropped his stuff off in the corner of the living room, then proceeded to take one of the books from the shelves (Stacy had prior told him she was happy to lend them to him) and sit down at the dining room table to read.

“Don’t you want to sit in the living room or something?” Stacy asked from the sink where she was washing dishes.

“No,” John replied shortly, and didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The minutes ticked by. Stacy soon put Larkin to bed, then reminded Mathew that his bedtime was ten and no later. Ten soon came, and Mathew reluctantly put away his Switch and also went to bed. Thirty minutes later, Stacy found she was tired and ready to go to sleep herself.

But as she checked back in with the dining room on her way to the stairs, it looked like John wasn’t about to move anytime soon. “Hey,” she said. “Aren’t you going to go to bed?”

“Hmm?” John glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Oh.” He laughed. “Yeah, no. It’s only ten-thirty.”

Stacy narrowed her eyes, giving John a once-over. He’d managed to finish the book he’d started and had gone halfway through another, without leaving his spot at the table. He was trying to look casual, she could tell, but his head was drooping, and she saw him stifle a yawn. There were also black bags under his eyes, but those had been there as long as she’d known him, and it was hard to judge if they’d gotten worse. “You look tired. You should go to sleep.”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’m a night owl.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What time did you go to bed last night?”

“What?” John put down the book. “Okay, _Mom_ , why do you care?”

“Because you look tired!” Stacy insisted. “And last night, I remember seeing the light in your tent on from all the way over here, and it was on late. So?”

John sighed. “Alright, can’t argue with the Mom Voice. Look, it was late, and that’s fine, okay? I’m an adult, I can stay up late if I want.”

“How late?”

“Uh…” John smiled nervously. “Until…like…ten.”

“But it’s past ten now, and you were saying it’s too early.”

“No, not in the night…” He lifted the book up again, hiding behind it as he mumbled, “…ten in the morning.”

“Holy shit!” Stacy gaped. “And I know you were up by twelve today, so you only got two hours of sleep?! Go to bed right now!”

“Okay, now I can argue with the Mom Voice.” He dropped the book again. “Look, I’m just not tired. I’ll be asleep by midnight, okay? That good enough for you?”

Stacy considered this. “Fine. Good night, John.”

“Night, Stace.”

Ever since…well, the events of the past few months, Stacy had been having some difficulty getting to sleep. Her friend Jaqueline recommended complete silence. Personally, she wasn’t so sure about it, but she went with it anyway. With the room being so silent, she was perfectly able to hear the noise in the kitchen downstairs. Groaning, she rolled over to look at the digital clock. A little past one in the morning. Who was awake at this time? And in the kitchen?

Well, going downstairs to check it out, she was greeted by the sight of John rummaging through the fridge. Stacy sighed deeply. “John, what’re you doing?”

He shrieked and spun around, throwing himself backwards against the fridge door before noticing Stacy. “Oh, it’s just you,” he sighed. “Don’t sneak up on me. I was just getting something to eat. Noticed you had pizza.” He pulled out the leftover pizza box, stifling another yawn as he opened it and took out a slice.

“It’s one a.m.!” Stacy exclaimed. “You said you would be asleep an hour ago!”

“Oh. The, uh, time must’ve slipped my mind.”

Stacy glared at him. “No it didn’t.”

“You’re right, it didn’t.” John replaced the pizza box, tearing apart the slice with his teeth as he did so. “Look, I’m just…just not tired.”

“Mm-hmm.” Stacy rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not going to bed until you go to bed, and I have to get my sleep ‘cause I’m meeting Jaqueline for coffee tomorrow. So at least lie down, okay?”

John just stared at her, continuing to rip apart the slice of pizza.

Stacy sighed. “Look, I’ll even set up your sleeping bag on the couch for you, how’s that?”

“No!” John suddenly yelled. “I am _not_ sleeping in your living room.”

“What is your deal with my living room?!”

“It has a TV in it, and I know I sound totally insane, but I don’t like those,” John explained, laughing nervously. “They…can watch you.”

That did sound insane, but Stacy tried to shrug it off. “Alright, your sleeping bag can go in the hallway on the carpet, is that better? ‘Cause it better be, I am not leaving until you are at least in the bag!”

John chuckled. “That sounds so weird out of context. Sounds like you’re gonna wrap me up in a bag and carry me around. Please don’t do that, by the way, it can be hard to breathe.”

“Wh—” Stacy shook off the oddly specific answer. “Okay, then. Look. Just _pretend_ to be asleep, okay?”

“Fine, if you _insist_ , Stace.” John rolled his eyes. “Just let me finish this, first.”

And with that, Stacy expected a peaceful night. She went back up to her room and drifted off to sleep eventually. But then she woke up in the middle of the night, extremely thirsty. She groaned, rolling over to look at the clock once more. Now it was a little past four in the morning. Great. Well, she couldn’t get back to sleep like this. She got up to go to the kitchen…for the second time that night.

In the hallway, she nearly tripped over the lump on the ground before she remembered John had set up his sleeping bag in there. Sighing, she worked her way around him without turning the light on; she wouldn’t want to wake him up. Though by the rustling sound of it, he was tossing and turning, possibly not asleep at all. Well, in that case, she wouldn’t want to ruin his chances of sleeping, not when she’d nagged him about it so much already.

She quickly made her way to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. After quickly downing it, she leaned on the counter and sighed. She poured another glass.

Something thumped somewhere. Startled, Stacy spilled some of the water. She set the glass and pitcher aside, listening. There wasn’t another one, but there was a vague sort of muttering sound, like a voice, that she couldn’t quite make out. Curiosity got the better of her and she stood up, heading towards the sounds.

As she reentered the hallway, the muttering sound got clearer before becoming muffled again. It was definitely a voice. In fact, it was a familiar voice. She looked down at the lump in the hallway that was John in his sleeping bag. Was he…talking to her? “Um, John, I can’t quite hear you. Is everything alright?” she asked, turning on the hall light.

When John didn’t respond to the sudden flare of light, she stepped closer to the bag, kneeling on the floor next to it. John had his face buried in the pillow, muffling his words. “Um…hello?” she reached forward, about to shake his shoulder, when he rolled over, now facing away from her.

“No, not again…” he muttered. “Not again, anything else.” He kicked his legs.

“What are you talking about? John?” Stacy asked, baffled.

John didn’t respond, instead making a whimpering sound. “Please…not my other one. N-no! Get away!” He rolled over again, pressing his face into the pillow again. His words turned into small cries and whining, almost like sobs.

Stacy understood then. John was talking in his sleep. And if the sounds were anything to go by, he was having a nightmare. She hesitated, thinking about what to do next. Wasn’t there a thing about how you shouldn’t wake someone up from a nightmare? Or was that for some other sleep-related thing?

While she was still debating this, John cried out. He tossed over, then back, and suddenly began thrashing, arms and legs flailing. Panicking, Stacy reached out and started shaking him. “John, wake up! Wake up! You’re having a bad dream!”

John suddenly bolted upright and screamed. Stacy flinched, falling backwards onto her back. The scream soon trailed off, replaced by the sound of heavy breathing and gasping. Then, “St-Stacy?”

Stacy pushed herself back into a sitting position. John was staring at her, shaking. His eyes were wide—or actually, just his eye. Apparently he’d worn his eye-patch to bed, but in all the tossing, it had come askew. Stacy couldn’t help but stare at it, then she swallowed, and smiled nervously. “H-hey. Yeah, it’s me. You…are you okay?”

“Um…yeah.” John reached down and started trying to untangle the sleeping bag from his legs.

“Good. Because you were…you were, like, rolling around violently. And, uh…talking in your sleep.” Stacy paused, noting how John tensed. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

John inhaled deeply. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.” He looked over at her. “I always do, in fact.”

“…oh. I see.” Stacy was speechless for a moment. “Um…always?”

“Or at least very, very often.” John sighed. “See, now you understand why I didn’t want to go to sleep, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.” Stacy crossed her arms, rubbing the sleeves of her pajama top. “But you can’t just avoid sleeping forever. If you went to sleep earlier, and, uh, slept longer, they might go away.”

“No, they won’t,” John muttered.

Stacy didn’t know how to respond to that. After a quiet moment, she reached forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, John. That must’ve sucked.”

“Yeah…yeah.” He nodded, and wiped his eye. “Didn’t know I talked in my sleep, though, so this has been…a learning experience.”

Stacy laughed nervously. “You, uh…” She glanced at his other eye again. “This might sound somehow…I’m so sorry if this is too personal, but…when you told Mathew your eye was sewn shut, I thought you were making that up to scare him?” She didn’t mean for the statement to turn into a question.

John burst into laughter. “Y’mean this?” He tapped his left eye, just above the thick black stitches holding his eyelids closed. “Yeah, no, not a lie.”

“How’d that happen?” Stacy couldn’t help but ask. 

“Long story. Involving a train trip to Germany, another one of these cryptids, and blackmail.” John grinned. But it soon faded. He pulled the eye-patch back into place.

Stacy fell silent. She remembered the conversation they’d had a few weeks ago, back in the diner in the old city. _I was a lot like you, once,_ he’d said. _But I wasn’t lucky enough to have someone there to give me advice._ She supposed…she was now seeing the result of whatever happened to him. Maybe all of his weird tendencies were the result of that. “Do you…want to talk about the nightmare?” she asked gently.

John glanced at her. “Nah. I wouldn’t want you to get nightmares, too.”

Well…alright. But if you ever change your mind…” She trailed off.

“I appreciate it,” John said quietly. He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Sorry if I woke you up. Since you have that…thing with your friend tomorrow.”

Stacy sighed. “Technically, my coffee meet-up with Jaqueline is today. But it’s fine. You didn’t wake me up, I got up to get water. I just happened to hear you talking.”

“Oh. Good.” Relief crossed John’s face. “Well, you should probably get back to sleep, then.”

“Are _you_ going back to sleep?” Stacy prodded.

“I, uh…don’t know,” John said honestly. “But you really should. Wouldn’t want to be tired on your thing with your friend. She’s nice, huh?”

“Yeah, very nice. I think you’d like her. She’s also new here, says she travels a lot.”

John laughed a bit. “Well, we do have _that_ in common. Maybe we’ve met. What’s her last name?”

“Oh, it’s…” Stacy blinked. “Um…actually, I don’t think she’s told me that.”

John sat up straight. “You don’t know her last name?”

“Well, she doesn’t know mine, either, give me a break.” She nudged John playfully. “No need to look so alarmed. When we ran into each other, it’s not like we thought to include our last names in our introductions. What, do you go introducing yourself as John…um…okay, bad example, since you don’t really introduce yourself at all. But the point is, it’s not something you casually bring up.”

“Hmm…” John narrowed his eyes. “Okay…makes sense,” he said reluctantly. “What’s she look like?”

“Jesus, John, why does it matter?” Stacy sighed.

“In case she stops by and I see her, I want to know someone isn’t breaking into your house.”

“Well, she’s tall, thin, and has long dark hair. Wears bright, warm colors, usually. Is that good?” Stacy folded her arms and huffed.

For some reason, that answer seemed to make John even more suspicious. But he dropped the subject. “It’s late, not the time to bring it up anyway,” he muttered.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that?”

“Doesn’t matter.” John reached back and turned his pillow over to the other side, hitting it a couple times to get it back into shape. “I think we should go to sleep now. We’ll both need it.”

“Um…okay…” Stacy stood up. She hesitated for a moment, ready to say something else. But in the end, she shrugged it off. John was always a bit weird, it probably wasn’t anything to be concerned about. “Good night.”

“Night, Stacy.” John lay down and pulled the flap of the sleeping bag over his face.

Stacy turned off the hall light and went back up to her bedroom. Mentally, she filed away this entire night as something important to be remembered. She fell asleep surprisingly quickly, and had no dreams, good or bad.


	16. Not as it Seems - Part One

There was a good few inches of snow on the ground, courtesy of the blizzard last night. Luckily the roads had been plowed quickly, or Stacy would’ve had a hard time driving. Still, the roads were slippery, and she elected to park two blocks away from the coffee shop and walk the rest of the way, braving the cold instead of risking driving the rest of the way. **  
**

Thus, she was even more relieved to step inside the warm, coffee-scented air of the cafe. She sighed, unwinding her scarf from around her neck as she scanned the shop.

“Stacy!”

Someone was waving at her from a table by the cafe’s front window. Stacy smiled, and walked over, sitting at the same table. “Hey, Jaqueline,” she said. “Sorry I’m late, driving was a bitch.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Jaqueline said, leaning back in her chair. “I knew you’d show up eventually. You want to order?”

“Sure.” Stacy noticed the table was empty of drinks. “You didn’t order already?”

“Nah, I wanted to wait.”

“Aw.” Stacy smiled, touched. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.” Jaqueline shrugged. “Besides, it’s no problem.”

The two of them went up to the counter and ordered. Stacy got a mocha latte with whip cream and Jaqueline got an americano. They chatted while they waited, just general small talk about the surprising blizzard last night, unusual for the area. The barista quickly filled their orders, and the two of them sat back down at the table.

“Y’know, you should really be wearing a coat, Jaq,” Stacy pointed out, taking a sip of her latte.

“Oh, I have a coat right here,” Jaqueline said. “I just took it off. Which you could stand to do, it’s warm enough in here.” She settled back into the seat. “So, how’s the job hunt going?”

Stacy sighed deeply. She shouldered off her coat, draping it over the back of the seat.  
“Not good. I keep getting denials online. Y’know, the whole ‘thank you for your application but we don’t think you’d be a good fit here,’ that whole shebang.” She tried not to let on how worried she was about it. She hadn’t gotten a job once since arriving in this new city of Rysbuwich. That was insane; surely she should’ve found something by now?

“Maybe you’re being too picky,” Jaqueline said, as if reading her mind. “You’re only going for food-related ones, right?”

“Well, I mean, that’s where all my expertise is, so yeah,” Stacy nodded. “It’s what’s on most of my resume. I’d prefer baking, like my old job, but I’ll take anything similar.”

“Hmm.” Jaqueline nodded. “That’s understandable. But, y’know, there’s only so long you can support two kids on unemployment. Maybe get a job you’re less qualified for, but one that’ll take anyone.”

“Yeah, I’ve started to do that,” Stacy agreed. Really, she’d only sent about two applications for positions like that,and both had been rejected. “I wonder if there’ll be a lot of those online…I’ve been seeing some help wanted signs around town, maybe I should just walk in.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing.” Jaqueline chuckled. “Where have you been seeing them?”

“Uh…a bookstore, an arcade, a couple fast-food places, I think there was a toy store…” Stacy had been making a mental note of every place she’d seen one of the Help Wanted signs, but she couldn’t be sure she was getting them all. Staring out the window, she stifled a yawn.

“You seem tired, Stace,” Jaqueline said. “Long night?”

“Yeah, had something with my other friend,” she replied. “It went late.” She paused. “Y’know, I mentioned you, and he got real weird about it. Asked me if I knew your last name.”

“Really?” Jaqueline raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little weird. We only just met, and it’s not like people go around introducing themselves as So-and-so Last Name.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Stacy laughed. “And, I mean, I don’t even know _his_ last name, so it’s not really fair. Do you know my last name?”

“Yeah, it’s Allen, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Guess I told you.”

Jaqueline smiled. “Yeah.”

Stacy paused, taking another sip of her coffee. “So, what’s yours?”

“Wait a sec, I just realized something.” Jaqueline frowned. “Your friend is a guy? And he got real weird about you seeing me?”

“Uh-huh.” Stacy nodded. “It was…it came out of nowhere, honestly.”

“Hmm.” Jaqueline pursed her lips. “You don’t think he could’ve been…well, _protective_ of you? In like a…y’know. ‘Has feelings’ way?”

“Um…I don’t think so.” Stacy cast her mind back. “I mean, John’s a little…weird. Kind of crazy. Don’t tell him I said that,” she hurried to add. “‘Cause I know he has reasons for acting the way he does, even if I’ve never asked. And besides, he knows I’m still not over my, uh…he knows I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Which is totally understandable,” Jaqueline assured her. “But I’m just saying, I’ve known some guy ‘friends’”—she made air quotes with her fingers on that word—“who would act weird and suspicious when their female friend started getting friends outside them. Just consider it.”

“I will, don’t worry,” Stacy took another drink. She really didn’t think John was the type to do something like that, but then again, she didn’t actually know that much about him. He helped her out back in the last town, Bronainise, with that…thing in her house. And she knew he had experience with things like that. And she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him after seeing him have that nightmare last night. But…she didn’t _really_ know that much about him. She didn’t even know his real name. Stacy shook her head, putting those thoughts away for now. “Anyway, enough about me, how have things been going with you?”

* * *

She arrived back home in a significantly better mood than she had been when she left. Being with Jaqueline always did that. They’d only met up twice since their initial meeting a few weeks ago, but Stacy could already tell she really liked her. There was just something about her that left Stacy feeling happy; like she was just full of energy and it rubbed off on her. She was really glad they’d met each other.

Walking into the house, she was greeted by the sight of Larkin lying on the couch, reading. “Hey, Lark,” she said. “What book is that?”

“Hi Mom!” Larkin said. He lifted up the cover for her to see. “I got it from the school library. It’s one of a bunch of series, The Magic Tree House. Mr. Teller said I’d like it.”

“Oh? And do you?”

Larkin nodded. “I like Annie.”

“That’s great!” Stacy smiled. Larkin was doing a lot better in English in this new school. Apparently all he needed was an encouraging teacher, who would point him towards books he would enjoy. He started to put more effort into trying to read, and had leaped ahead to be one of the best readers in the class. “Do you know where Mathew is?”

“Uh, I think he’s in the backyard.”

Stacy headed out back. Mathew wasn’t actually out in the yard, but she could clearly see him. Over the small brick wall. In the empty lot behind the house. She hurried over, snow crunching under her boots.

It appeared Mathew was talking with John, who had cleared a spot in the lot free of snow and was now trying to set up his tent. Stacy picked up their conversation as she approached. “—and I’m told that you get the true ending if you do a pacifist run, so you don’t hurt anyone, but I never got around to playing it when it came out,” Mathew was saying. “But I dunno…should I get it on my Switch?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” John said, busying himself with trying to set up some of the tent poles. “I played it, and I loved it. It’s seriously really good, totally worth your allowance.”

“You did?” Mathew asked skeptically.

“What, just ‘cause I live in a tent and don’t own anything electronic now doesn’t mean I never did,” John joked.

Mathew smiled a bit. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for asking, though.” John glanced over, noticing Stacy. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said. “Just checking on you two.”

“We’re good, Mom,” Mathew said, with a hint of what she called the “duh” tone that teenages sometimes used. “I just wanted to talk to John about games.”

“Nice.” Stacy nodded. “I’m going to make lunch. You good with sandwiches and chips?”

“Sure.”

“Um…John, do you want lunch, too?” Stacy asked tentatively.

John shook his head, not looking away from his tent. “I’ll get something somewhere.”

“Where?”

John shrugged. “You know.”

Stacy frowned. “Alright. I’ll make an extra one, if you change your mind.”

“…thanks,” John says softly. He managed to pull one of the tent poles into a standing position, using a spare rock to pound a stake into the ground. “So, Stacy. You, uh…saw your friend today?”

“Yes, I just came back,” Stacy said. Mathew, sensing the appearance of adult small talk, turned and hopped back over the wall into the yard and then the house. “It was nice.”

“Good. Good.” John sounded a bit curt. “Had fun?”

“…yeah.” Stacy narrowed her eyes. “You sound a bit, um…is everything okay with you?”

“With me, yeah. What about you?” John finally looked over at her.

“I mean…it’s going alright,” Stacy said haltingly. “I’m still looking for a job, but at least I’ve made a friend.” A friend, being key. Jaqueline was the only person she’d met in town who’d seemed interested in…well, meeting up with her more than once. Though it was hard to meet up with people when you didn’t have a lot of places to go. No job to socialize, and Larkin and Mathew were still making friends of their own so she couldn’t even chat with their friends’ moms.

“Hmm…” John pulled the other tent pole into place. “How’d you meet…her? She goes by Jaqueline, right?”

“Yes, that’s her name. We, uh…met in the grocery store.” Stacy smiled awkwardly. “I was shopping, she was shopping.”

“She approached you and started talking, then?” John drawled.

“Yeah.” Stacy couldn’t quite remember their first conversation, but Jaqueline had been so friendly it had left a good impression of her. “That’s how most conversations work. Usually you don’t walk up to someone and go ‘hello, there’s a demon in my house, can you help me?’”

“It really, really isn’t a demon in that house,” John said, frowning. “I told you why I don’t like that word for them.”

“Mm-hmm.” Stacy watched for a bit, just long enough to make sure John got the tent up. Then she turned around. “Well…I’ll be around.”

“Wait!” John suddenly stood up.

Stacy spun back around. “What? What is it?”

“I…” John now seemed to be regretting calling after her. “You, uh…really like this friend, huh? Y’know you should be, um…you should be careful about talking to strangers.”

“Yeah…I know.” Stacy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not seven years old, I know all about stranger danger.” Evidently she was feeling a bit sassy today. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You’re, uh. You’re smart.” John shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Very careful, I could tell when I saw you. Just, uh…remember to be careful, okay?”

“…okay.” Stacy backed up. “Talk to you later.” She turned and left, glancing back over at John as she hopped over the wall. John still seemed to want to say something, but she walked away before he could.

* * *

The next morning, she went driving around town while the kids were at school, looking for a few of those Help Wanted signs she’d seen throughout the town. Retracing her usual routes, she was sure she’d run into one of them. But to her surprise, there wasn’t a single one. Strange…she wandered around for a while, glancing into store windows, but still saw nothing. After a bit, she stopped outside a bookstore that she distinctly remembered had a Help Wanted sign in the window. She would go in herself, talk to an employee, and see if they were still hiring.

Walking in, she was greeted by the small tinkling of a bell and soft music. It was a big enough shop, but still had the sort of atmosphere of a small bookstore. Stacy immediately thought that this wouldn’t be a bad place to work. She walked up to the counter, looking around. There was an employee with their back to her. “Um…hello?” she called. “I have a question.”

The employee straightened, and turned to face her. “Stacy?”

“Oh!” Stacy blinked. “Jaqueline! I didn’t realize you worked here.”

Jaqueline chuckled. “Really? I could’ve sworn I told you. Thought you were checking up on me.” She frowned exaggeratedly. “Aw.”

“I mean, if I’d known I might’ve,” Stacy said. “Are you guys, uh…hiring?”

“We were, but the position was filled yesterday,” Jaqueline sighed. She pointed down the shelves at a young man. “New guy right there. Sorry. It would’ve been great to work together.”

“Yeah.” Stacy sighed. “It seems nice. Looks like they have a lax uniform code to start, if they let you wear your jacket.”

“Hey, it’s cold. Management understands that.” Jaqueline smiled.

Stacy smiled back, but it quickly faded. “I just…I could’ve sworn there were more people hiring in town.”

“Well, jobs at places like this tend to get snatched up quickly. High turnover rate, y’know. I’m even new here.” Jaqueline reached over the counter and put her hand on Stacy’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, y’know. Someone with your skills is sure to have many opportunities.” Jaqueline withdrew. “Most organizations actually favor online applications over in-person ones these days. Keep trying there, and keep talking to them about the application. It’ll get you somewhere eventually.”

“You think so?” Stacy asked.

“I know so,” Jaqueline said, reassuring her.

Stacy breathed out. “Thanks.” She already felt a bit calmer about the situation.

“Hey, you want to meet up next week? Maybe on Friday?” Jaqueline asked. “We could spend an evening together.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I don’t have anything else to do.” Stacy paused. “Well, I’ll see you then, then?”

“I’ll meet up outside your house,” Jaqueline said.

Stacy frowned. “Do you know my address?”

“Yeah, you told me. And I told you mine, remember?” Jaqueline shook her head. “Sometimes I worry about your memory, Stace.”

“…huh.” Stacy considered this. Maybe her time back in Bronainise with the thing in her house had messed with her memory. Who knew? “Well, see you.”

“See you.”

Stacy left. She didn’t bother to check any of the other places she thought had hiring signs. Evidently all those posts had been filled.

* * *

The week passed quietly, without change, and soon Friday arrived. Stacy was about ready to go out to meet Jaqueline when she got a call from the babysitter.

“Are you absolutely sure you can’t make it?” Stacy asked.

“Sorry, Ms. Allen,” the sitter said. “Nobody could’ve seen this coming. And it is an emergency.”

“It is, it is,” Stacy said, nodding even though nobody could see her. “Sorry to hear about it, by the way. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Ms. Allen.”

As soon as the sitter hung up, Stacy sighed, staring at the phone screen. It froze for a moment, the image freaking out briefly before settling to normal. She filed that away in her mind, to be worried about if it came up later. The more pressing concern was what she was going to do now. She’d promised Jaqueline she’d meet up with her, and though she trusted Mathew to be able to watch Larkin and himself for a day, she worried about the two of them being left alone for the night. Should she…just leave and trust the kids for the night? No, what if something happened?

Just at that moment, she heard a knocking sound. She jumped, and spun around, peering into the kitchen where the sound came from. John was standing at the glass door at the back of the house. He knocked on the glass again. 

Stacy walked on over and opened the door. “Hi. What’s up?”

“I really need to talk to you,” John said.

“Oh, um. Okay. I was actually planning to go out—”

“With Jaqueline?” John interrupted.

“Yeah,” Stacy said, surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“Just a guess,” John said. “Look, that’s what I need to talk to you about. She’s not what you think she is.”

“You’ve never even met her,” Stacy muttered.

“You’re right, I’ve never met _Jaqueline_ ,” John said. “But—”

“Well, then, why do you care if I’m going out with her?” Stacy asked.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt!” John slammed his hands down on the kitchen table. “Look, you barely know this—this _person_.” He spat out the last word like he couldn’t come up with something better, and thought the one he’d found didn’t quite fit. “For all you know, she could be a serial killer!”

“I barely knew you when I gave you a ride to this town,” Stacy pointed out. “You were in the car with my kids and me for two hours, and you didn’t take the opportunity to do anything.”

“Yeah, but I’m different!”

Stacy blinked. “Wow. That sounds…kind of…” Entitled, if she was being honest.

“Okay, maybe I could’ve phrased that better,” John admitted, backing down. “What I mean is that…I-I know what she is.”

“A woman?”

“No!”

“Oh wow.” Stacy took a step back. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you, as a man, have the right to judge someone on their womanhood. Especially someone you’ve never met before—”

“What—how the fuck did you jump to that conclusion?!” John gaped at her. “Look I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Um, kinda sounds like you did—”

“No shut the fuck up and let me talk!” John blurted out the words, and immediately his expression shifted to regret. “…sorry.”

Stacy took a few steps backwards. “I think we both need some time to cool down,” she said after a while.

“No, look, this is important, I have to tell you before you meet…your friend,” John said, approaching as Stacy retreated. There seemed to be genuine fear and concern in his visible eye. “I-I—what I mean to say is that, this friend of yours isn’t actually your friend.”

Stacy sighed, irritation rising. “You _still_ don’t even know her. I’ve barely told you anything.”

“You’ve barely told me anything because you barely know anything!” John’s voice became hushed. “If I asked you what her eye color was, would you be able to tell me?”

“Of _course,_ John.”

“Alright, what color are her eyes?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Stacy snapped. “Look, she’ll be here any minute. I gotta go.”

“Just answer the question!” John suddenly lunged, grabbing onto her wrist as she turned to leave.

Stacy yelped, and instinctively slapped him across the face, startling him enough to get him to let go. Immediately, she backed up and then turned and ran. She was at the front door and heading out before John even had time to call out to her.

There was a car outside the house. When Stacy approached, she saw Jaqueline inside, who rolled down the window. “You okay, Stace?” Jaqueline asked. “You look a little shaken.”

“I’m fine,” Stacy dismissed. “Tell you about it later.” She rounded the car and got into the passenger side door. “Let’s just go.”

* * *

Jaqueline ended up driving the two of them to a part of town that Stacy wasn’t too familiar with. When the car pulled into a parking lot, Stacy looked out at the nearby building and immediately frowned. “Is this a bar?”

“Well, no, it’s a restaurant with a bar inside it,” Jaqueline said. “Why, is that a problem?”

“Um…I don’t drink anymore,” Stacy explained uneasily.

“That’s alright, we’ll just get food,” Jaqueline said. “This place has great chicken.”

“…well…I do like chicken,” Stacy said slowly.

“I know! You’re gonna love it here, just give it a chance.” Jaqueline smiled, and stepped out of the car. Stacy hesitated, then followed.

They ended up sitting at the bar area, but that was because the place was packed. It seemed that this was one of the most active places in town, and on a Friday night that meant there was barely any room to sit anywhere. It also meant the wait for food was long, so Jaqueline suggested they ordered drinks to start. Stacy agreed, but stuck with just water while Jaqueline jumped straight into ordering a martini. After their drinks arrived, Jaqueline asked, “So, are you gonna tell me why you were so shaken when I went to pick you up?”

“Hmm? Oh, I did say I’d tell you later, didn’t I?” Stacy sighed, and took a big drink of her water. “Nothing, it’s just…I had a fight with my friend.”

“The same friend who started acting weird when you mentioned you were hanging out with me a week and a half ago?” Jaqueline asked.

“Well…yeah,” Stacy admitted.

“Hmm,” Jaqueline hummed. “What about?”

“Uh…well…you.” Stacy muttered the last word into her drink. 

“Oh. Well, then.” Jaqueline sipped her martini through a straw, finishing the whole thing in one big drink. “That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“I mean, it’s not a coincidence,” Stacy said. “He just…really thinks I shouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

“I see. You ever ask him if he, y’know, liked you? In _that_ way?” Jaqueline flagged down the bartender again, ordering another martini.

“No, but I can tell it’s not just that.” Stacy took another drink. “He’s paranoid. I think he thinks you’re gonna be, like, a murderer or something.”

Jaqueline laughed. “Wow. We’ve never even met! What have you been telling him about me?”

“Nothing, really. Just the normal stuff.” Stacy paused. “I mean, I understand _why_ he is the way he is. Something happened to him that made him so crazy. And, well, at this point, it is a little crazy to be so paranoid about someone you don’t know. But there’s a reason, and I know it’s a bad one.” She sighed. “I feel kinda bad for fighting with him.”

“Hey, no matter what someone’s past is, that shouldn’t lead them to interfering with other people’s lives,” Jaqueline said.

Stacy nodded. Slowly at first, then she sped up. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right.” She took a sip of her drink through the straw.

“Honestly if he’s bothering you this much about it, it sounds like it’s a problem that needs to be addressed,” Jaqueline said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you’re right and something happened in his past that made him like this, it sounds like any paranoia on his part is kinda just a reaction because of how, like, his mind formed or something,” Jaqueline said. Her voice, though it wasn’t any louder than anyone else’s, really stood out against the background chatter of the restaurant. Its familiar tone was soothing. “Maybe he should talk to someone professional about it. Sort out these issues.”

“Huh. That’s a good point.” Because John clearly had some sort of issues. Stacy had noticed them. He was paranoid about _everything_ , about people with phones, about strangers, and about so much more. He lived in a tent, and she got the feeling that was because of a choice he made and not because he had no other option. Or maybe it was both. And she hadn’t forgotten how he had a criminal record back in Bronainise. For petty things, like pickpocketing and minor vandalism, but still. He had a past of being a bit…disruptive.

“Maybe you should just, like, remember that,” Jaqueline suggested. “I’m not saying you do anything about it unless it gets bad. You want a second drink?”

“Huh? Oh sure.” Stacy waved the empty martini glass she was holding. “Didn’t even realize I finished.”

“I’ll get you another one of those.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

* * *

The next thing Stacy knew, she was waking up on a cot in a holding cell at a police station with a pounding headache.

“Wh…?” Stacy tried to sit up, and immediately winced as the ache intensified. “Um…hello?”

A uniformed police officer outside the cell turned to look at her. “Oh good. You’re awake.”

“What…am I doing here?” Stacy asked, looking around.

“You don’t remember? Well, it doesn’t surprise me.” The officer shook her head. “With a BAC of 0.21, I’m surprised you were even able to keep walking.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, _what?!_ ” Stacy tried to stand up, but instead ended up rolling out of the cot onto the floor. “Th—that’s impossible, I don’t drink!”

“Well, you did last night,” the officer said, raising an eyebrow.

Stacy shook her head in disbelief. This was impossible. She’d sworn off drinking. “What happened? Why’d I get arrested?”

“Disorderly conduct,” the officer explained. “You and some other lady were making a ruckus on the street, walking all along Fleet St. for a couple hours. Ended up throwing some bottles and tipping over wheelie bins.”

“Oh my god…” Stacy whispered. “This other lady, where is she?”

“Some family member of hers posted bail an hour ago. She said she’d be back to post yours. Should be any minute now.”

Stacy nodded vaguely, muttering another “Oh my god…” before settling down on the cot. She put her head in her hands and started to wait. She’d sworn off alcohol. After her husband died, she fell pretty hard into that rabbit hole. She hated it, but she’d hated remembering what happened more. She was lucky enough to pull herself out of it. But it seemed that last night she relapsed. She’d thought she was doing pretty good…but now,the whole town will only know her as the lady who caused some crazy drunk disturbance.

It must’ve been ten minutes later when Stacy heard, “Wow…you don’t look good.”

Stacy looked up, and sighed. “Thanks, Jaqueline.”

“No problem.” Jaqueline flashed a smile of teeth, then nodded at the police officer, who unlocked the door of the holding cell. Stacy quickly left. “Wow, crazy last night. I’ve never been arrested before.”

“Really?” Stacy asked idly.

Jaqueline shrugged. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home. God, that whole thing last night must’ve been crazy. I walked out of the station and all the officers were staring at me.”

Stacy winced. Then the first statement really registered. “Oh my fucking god, I need to get home! I left the kids!” She hurried out of the station, Jaqueline following close behind.

* * *

When Jaqueline dropped her off at her house, Stacy immediately rushed inside. “Mathew?! Larkin?!” she called, running into the living room. Upon not immediately seeing either of the boys, she ran down the hall, tripping over her own feet. She cried out, catching herself by grabbing the wall.

“Be careful, there.”

Stacy paused, then backed up, glancing into the entrance to the dining room. John was inside. He was sitting on the floor, back braced against one of the dining room chairs, one of her books in his hands. “How’d you get in here?” She asked, startled.

John folded over a corner of the page and set the book on the chair behind him. “You let me inside last night, remember?” He said, standing up. “And when you left, I figured, y’know, nobody was here to watch your kids for the night.”

Stacy flinched. “I-I didn’t mean to leave so suddenly. The sitter quit, she had a call from her mother in the hospital—I was going to stay, really!”

“Hmm.” John folded his arms. “I do agree it was…most unlike you. You must’ve really, really wanted to meet up with your…friend.”

“Well…yeah, but I wouldn’t have—!”

“Yeah, you would’ve,” John muttered. “When in this situation, anyone would’ve.”

Stacy blinked. “What?”

“Tell me, Stacy.” John took a few steps towards her before stopping and leaning on the nearest wall. “Why do you hang out with this…person?”

“Wh…Jaqueline?”

“If that’s what you want to call—yes, fine, Jaqueline.”

Stacy frowned. “John, you really shouldn’t be so concerned with this. You’ve never even met her, why do you care so much about me—”

“Because you just up and left your kids!” John suddenly shouted. “Overnight! In a town you’ve only lived in for a month and a half! For what, this thing?! Stacy, we haven’t known each other that long, but I know you wouldn’t ditch your kids without supervision to go out with friends. I can tell you care about them too much to do that. So maybe you should think about _why_ you left them last night and I had to stay in your house with your _fucking_ computer and electronics just so I could make sure nothing happened to them!”

Stacy bit her lip, holding back an immediate response. She took a few deep breaths before continuing. “John…I didn’t mean to leave last night. I was angry and not thinking clearly, but I know I shouldn’t have left all night.” She paused. “I…actually got arrested.”

John blinked, then his eye suddenly went wide. He ran over and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did you do?! What did it make you do?! How are you back here now?! What does it plan to do next?!”

“Jesus christ!” Stacy grabbed John’s wrists and threw his hands away, taking a few steps back. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?!” John suddenly calmed, shaking his head. “No, of course you don’t, I was talking to you earlier and you still called it by that name, but what’s it going to do next? What is it planning? This isn’t normal, it’s moving too fast.”

“John…” Stacy said softly. “Are you alright?”

“What?” His head snapped up. “Well, technically no, but as of my current standard of ‘alright,’ yeah, I guess.”

“Look, it’s very weird—no, that’s the wrong word, I mean…I know you’re aware that this way you’re acting isn’t _normal_ ,” Stacy emphasized.

John laughed. “Nothing about me is normal anymore.”

“It’s, um…it could be harmful,” Stacy said delicately. “To yourself, or others. Maybe you should talk to a therapist about it.”

That just made John laugh harder, bracing against the wall. “Oh, that’d be a _great_ idea! Y’know I don’t really feel like being put in an institution again! Honestly, what I _should_ be doing at this point is be fucking dead, but no way! Not gonna let that happen! It’d just _love_ that!”

Stacy took another step backwards. “Look, I know it seems a bit ridiculous, but…I’ve been thinking recently, and you…well, you need help.”

John’s laughter suddenly cut off, and he leveled her with a single-eye stare. “Did your Jaqueline tell you that?”

“Look, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Stacy said, exasperated. “You’re so focused on someone who didn’t even do anything.”

“Oh, a lot of people would disagree with you on that,” John muttered.

“Jaqueline is the _one_ person who’s been friendly to me in this town!” Stacy shouted, her voice cracking. “She’s funny, gives great advice, always wants to hang out—”

“—makes you so happy to be around that you can’t wait to meet up again,” John jumped in. “So happy that you probably don’t even remember that you’re still looking for a job, or that your kids sometimes need help with school, or that you’re running out of food in the fridge—yeah, I checked that. A happiness so intense that it’s basically an addiction.”

“You don’t get addicted to people, John,” Stacy said flatly. “Look, I gotta check on Mathew and Larkin. I don’t…can you leave? By the time I get back downstairs?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and went back down the hall. She felt John’s gaze on her the entire way, but when she came back down, he had left, just like she’d asked.

* * *

Two days later, she finally found a place with a Help Wanted sign in the window. Her mood immediately lifted. She’d been applying heavily online, calling businesses just to make sure they were absolutely sure there wasn’t a spot open, but had got no results. This could be the game changer. She walked inside; this place was an arcade, so she was instantly hit with a wall of beeping electronic sounds and flashing lights. She walked up to the counter and asked, “Hi, I noticed you had a hiring sign? Is that still applicable?”

“Oh, yeah,” said the employee at the counter. “Hang on, let me get my manager, he’ll talk to you about it. Brenda? Can you man the till?”

Only a few minutes later, Stacy was sitting at a table in a back room, talking to an older man who identified himself as the manager and owner. An interview! Finally. And so quickly, too. Maybe she’d finally get a new job. And from there, she could continue her search on the side, but at least she’d have a source of income besides unemployment and her savings.

“Alright, just one more question, I have to ask this for security reasons,” the manager said, writing something down. “Do you have any sort of criminal record?” He asked the question like he already knew the answer.

“Oh…um…” Stacy tried not to squirm. “I mean, I got…arrested once.”

The manager stopped writing and looked up at her.

“It wasn’t for anything bad!” Stacy hurried to say, before it suddenly occurred to her that this would seem super suspicious. “I just—it was really recent, it was just for disorderly conduct, I got drunk—” The manager frowned slightly. “—but it was just a few days ago, and it was just the one time!”

“I see.” The manager wrote something else down. “Well, thank you Ms. Allen. Can I get your phone number? We’ll be in contact.”

Stacy gave him her number, but walked out of the building with a heavy heart. ‘We’ll be in contact’ was what employers said when they weren’t really considering you.

* * *

“Hey, Stace!”

She was in the grocery store, three days later, and her lingering gray mood hadn’t faded. But then she looked up and saw Jaqueline approaching. Her mood suddenly lightened, and she beamed. “Hi, Jaqueline.”

“You looked a bit down before I showed up,” Jaqueline said in a joking tone. “What’s up?”

Stacy sighed heavily, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms from the shelf—it was Larkin’s favorite, but harder to find in this country. “I just…still haven’t had luck.”

“With the job hunt?”

“Yeah, and just…life.” She put the box in her cart. “I swear, people keep staring at me.”

“Me too,” Jaqueline said, tone sympathetic. “I think someone filmed us last Friday night and shared the video online, so we’re pretty well-known now.”

“Oh…” Stacy groaned. Of course it would be like that. Of course life would add another scoop of ice cream to the bad-luck sundae that was the past few years of her life. The metaphorical bowl must be overflowing by this point. “So now we’re both known as the crazy drunk ladies.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Jaqueline sighed. “But, y’know, you look even more upset than that would warrant.”

“I just…still no job. Mathew and Lark are having a hard time making new friends. And now nobody’s gonna want to talk to me…” Stacy sighed again, this time blinking away tears.

“Maybe you never should’ve moved here,” Jaqueline said.

“Maybe I never should’ve moved here,” Stacy repeated. “Yeah…I mean, why’d we have to leave the whole town? The thing was probably only in that house, we could’ve just got a new one. The kids would be a lot happier, too.”

“Wait, you want to leave?” Jaqueline asked.

“I mean, nothing’s been good ever since we got here,” Stacy said. “I can’t work, I’m fighting with John all the time, I got drunk for the first time in months…yeah.”

“Aw, but I’ll miss you!” Jaqueline whined. “But…I understand. It’s for the best of everyone.”

“Yeah…” Stacy nodded slowly. “Yeah, it’s for the best.”

* * *

She started idly making plans to move back to Bronainise. She didn’t book a moving van, or go online to look for houses like she had upon initially moving away, but she did bring it up with the kids. Larkin seemed vaguely okay with it, like he didn’t really care, but Mathew was confused about moving back when they’d only been there for a little under two months. Stacy had explained that she could tell the town wasn’t a good fit for any of them, but he’d still been a bit upset about so many moves in such a short time. But he relented.

Stacy was a little concerned about what to do with John. He probably wouldn’t want to move back, but should she ask him anyway? After all, if it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t even be in this town in the first place. Maybe she should at least offer to give him a ride. But then again, she hadn’t been seeing much of him lately.

Until about four days after she’d initially gotten the idea to move back. She pulled into the driveway after picking up the kids from school, and was greeted by the sight of John, wearing a backpack with his rolled-up sleeping bag attached, carrying a full duffel bag, rounding around the side of the house. She stepped out, followed soon by the kids. “What’s going on?” she asked, confused.

John stopped, letting go of the duffel bag. “I’m moving. I packed everything up, and I’m leaving.”

“…oh.” Stacy said. “Um…why?”

John rolled his visible eye. “Because you clearly don’t want me nearby, of course.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Stacy said. Behind her, she heard Mathew and Larkin climb out of the car and walk up the drive to the front door, going inside. “I’ll be in in a minute, boys!” She called after them.

“Look, I think it’s best for both of us if I leave,” John said. “I never meant to hang around anyway. But I’m human, we get attached. Unless we’re pretending.”

That was an odd statement. Stacy stepped forward. “If this is about something I said, I’m sorry—”

“It’s not just that,” John interrupted. “Look, before I go, I just want to straight-up tell you what I’ve been trying to get at for the last three weeks. Apparently just hinting at it hasn’t worked.” He paused. “Your friend, Jaqueline? Is not human.”

After a long, quiet moment, Stacy sighed deeply. “John—”

“I know, you think it’s your friend, your _only_ friend,” John pressed forward. “But it’s making you think that. You haven’t talked to anyone else because it’s made you focus on it. You’ve been acting weird because it’s been influencing you. You shouldn’t trust it.”

“John,” Stacy said sadly. “I really do appreciate you helping out with that thing in the house, but not everything is tied back to something supernatural.”

John laughed. “Oh, you don’t know my life. But trust me, this time, it is. I’ve seen this thing in action before.”

“John…” Stacy could only shake her head. He must’ve been so immersed in this world, so affected by whatever happened to him, that he saw it everywhere. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’know, I believe you, in some way,” John interrupted. “But this just proves I should go.” He picked up the duffel bag again. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.” And he started walking down the sidewalk, snow crunching under his feet.

Stacy watched him go. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of what. After a few seconds, she turned, and went inside.

She didn’t see the way John froze, stopped walking, and looked back.

* * *

Inside the house, Stacy was dialing a number on her phone. She waited anxiously while it rang.

The other line was soon picked up. “Hello?”

“Jaqueline?” Stacy asked, already her mood brightening.

“Yeah, Stace? What’s up?”

“I just…I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Aw, that’s great! Hey, why don’t we meet up tonight? What about seven, in the park?”

“Sounds great.”

“You should bring your kids, too. I’ve always wanted to meet them.”

“Alright.”

“And we might be a while, so like, grab some entertainment for them. Books and stuff, y’know.”

“Yeah, they’ll get bored soon if we’re gonna go do something.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

Jaqueline hung up. Stacy realized she’d been smiling the whole time. Well, that would be something to look forward to.


	17. Not as it Seems - Part Two

Just before seven, Stacy gathered her kids and their entertainment and piled them all in the car. Of course, Mathew and Larkin questioned it. She explained that her friend wanted to meet them, but that they might get bored. Neither of them seemed too happy about that explanation.

“Mom, isn’t it a little late?” Mathew complained. “Larkin has school tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind staying up,” Larkin piped up.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Stacy assured them. “Jaqueline’s great, you’ll like her.”

Mathew groaned. “Do you want us to call her ‘Aunt Jaqueline’?”

“Of course not!” Stacy said. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Mom, I can watch Lark for the evening, it’s fine,” Mathew insisted. “You can go.”

“It won’t take too long,” Stacy repeated. “You have your Switch, fully charged. What would you be doing at home? Playing on your Switch.”

Mathew grumbled at the accurate statement. Meanwhile, Larkin was staring out the window, frowning. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the park, honey,” Stacy replied.

“I don’t wanna go,” Larkin whined.

“Why not? It won’t take too long.”

“I dunno,” Larkin said. “But I don’t wanna go.” He slumped in his car seat. “It feels…like this isn’t good. A bad idea.”

“It’s just a short meet-up, Lark,” Stacy said gently. “If you still want to leave after, just let me know, and I’ll drive you back home.”

Larkin still looked a bit upset, almost nervous, but accepted this. The rest of the drive was silent, and soon Stacy pulled up to the city park. “Alright, here we are,” she said, opening the car door and stepping out. It was a bit darker than she’d expected, the sky a dark, dusky blue. It was cold too, but luckily she and the kids had thought to bring their coats. Snow covered the grass in spots where there would’ve been shade in the daytime, and it crunched under their feet. There was a hole in the park, marked with stakes around it, attached with tape. A large shovel was shoved into the ground, standing upright. Stacy glanced into the hole. There was a pipe running along the ground. It appeared this was maintenance for something or other, probably a water pipe. Stacy ushered Larkin away from the hole, just in case.

“Hey Mom?” Mathew asked. “Is that your friend?”

Stacy glanced up. There was a figure standing nearby, underneath an elder tree. She instantly recognized the red hoodie. “Yes, that’s her,” she said, smiling. “C’mon.” She grabbed Larkin’s hand and walked on over, Mathew following close behind. “Hey!” She called.

“Hey, Stacy,” Jaqueline said, waving. “Glad you could make it. These are your kids?”

“Yep.” Stacy closed the distance between her and Jaqueline. “This is Mathew, and this is—Larkin, what’s wrong?”

Larkin had stopped walking, and now looked very pale. He pulled on Stacy’s hand, backing up.

Mathew, noticing this, frowned. “Lark, what’s up?”

“Moooom?” Larkin said in a whisper-shout. “I think we should leave. I don’t think your friend is coming.”

Stacy blinked. “What are you talking about, sweetie? She’s right here.” She pointed at Jaqueline.

Larkin whimpered slightly, and tried harder to pull Stacy away, causing her to stumble.

Jaqueline laughed. “Wow, he must get his sight from his father.”

“What? I mean, if you mean he has his father’s eyes, that’s not right, you can see he takes after me there…” Stacy trailed off. What an odd thing to say.

“Ah, I’m sorry, it’s dark,” Jaqueline said dismissively.

“Oh. It’s okay.” Stacy turned her attention back to Larkin. “Honey, what’s wrong? Do you want to leave?”

Larkin gestured for her to bend down. She did so, and he got up on his tiptoes to whisper in her ear: “Mom, we need to leave soon, before the monster catches on.”

The genuine fear in his voice made Stacy’s heart stop. This wasn’t even the sort of fear she’d heard in his voice when he was younger and scared of monsters under the bed. This was raw, real, life-under-threat fear. “What do you mean?” She asked quietly.

Larkin glanced back over at Jaqueline. “Mom,” he whispered. “I think the demon is tricking you.”

Slowly, Stacy straightened. She slowly looked back over at Jaqueline. This was…this was wrong. Why would Larkin be so afraid of her, call her a monster and a demon? She was perfectly normal.

But…

John had warned her away from Jaqueline. And…and he would know, wouldn’t he? He had a lot more experience with this kind of thing. He’d straight-up said that she wasn’t human, that she was tricking her. And Stacy had brushed it off as paranoia. Which…was sort of true, John was a bit paranoid, but he also knew his stuff. Wasn’t it a good idea to listen to the expert, even if the expert was a bit strange?

Jaqueline laughed. “I’m not good with kids,” she said dismissively. “Maybe he should wait in the car or something.”

“Alone?” Stacy asked, frowning.

“Of course not! The other one can go with him to make sure everything goes okay,” Jaqueline said, her tone soothing. “It won’t be too long while we talk.”

Stacy found herself relaxing, but then it struck her that she _shouldn’t be relaxing_. She wasn’t about to leave her kids alone in a car while it was dark out! Why would Jaqueline suggest that? Didn’t she know that wasn’t something you were supposed to do with kids?

Wait…had she ever told Jaqueline that she had kids?

She couldn’t remember…

In fact, she couldn’t really remember the specifics of most of their conversations. When she tried to recall how she’d met ‘Jaqueline,’ she only came up with a vague, fuzzy memory of being in a store somewhere.

She squinted at Jaqueline. “You’re just wearing a hoodie. No coat? There’s snow and everything,” she said slowly.

“Oh, I had a coat. I left it in my car cause I didn’t think this would take that long,” Jaqueline said dismissively.

But there wasn’t another car nearby. Actually, she couldn’t even remember what Jaqueline’s car looked like. “And…the hood up?” she asked. “It’s dark.”

“Oh, it’s not too dark.” ‘Jaqueline’ laughed. “What is this, an interrogation? I thought we were just gonna talk.”

Stacy didn’t say anything. She was too busy thinking. Had she _ever_ seen Jaqueline without the hood up? In fact, had she ever seen her without the hoodie?

She then remembered one of the very first questions John had asked her about Jaqueline: _What color are her eyes?_

She realized she didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t picture Jaqueline’s eye color in her mind. She couldn’t even picture the shape of her features, or recall the pitch of her voice.

Eyes wide, Stacy took a step back.

Jaqueline tilted her head, and took a step closer. “What’s wrong, Stace? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um…Mom?” Mathew asked, confused. Suddenly remembering her kids, Stacy pushed Larkin behind her and went to stand in front of Mathew.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Jaqueline said. Her voice was soothing…intoxicating.

“I just remembered—we left the lights on,” Stacy said casually. “Don’t want to run up the bill. We’ll be right back.”

“It won’t be that bad if you leave them on for a couple hours,” Jaqueline said in that lovely, luring voice. “Don’t worry about it. You worry too much, Stace. I just want to tal—”

_WHACK!_

Jaqueline’s head whipped to the side as she was hit with enough force to knock her over. Stacy blinked, stepping back, pushing her kids behind her. She looked to the side, and then she saw him. “John?” she whispered.

John backed up, holding a long shovel in both hands—the one from the hole she’d seen earlier. He was breathing heavily, at first looking a bit panicked, but then he turned his eye to Stacy and the kids, and his expression softened with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Stacy said. “How’d you—”

_Crack._

The noise drew her attention back to ‘Jaqueline.’ She watched as she—it—slowly stood up. Its head was twisted to the side, far more twisted than it should’ve been. Stacy gasped softly. It rolled its shoulders, the movement accompanied by snapping, crackling sounds. The sounds of bones and stiff flesh. Its hands reached up and grabbed its head, twisting it back into place with one more _Crack_. A smile stretched its face, just a bit too wide. “Well. That was rude.”

Larkin cried out, burying his face in Stacy’s side. Mathew’s eyes widened. “What the fuck?!” he shouted, staggering backwards. Normally Stacy would’ve chastised him, but in this case, she’d allow it, as she pushed him back behind her.

Before anything else could happen, John stepped in front of Stacy and her kids, holding the shovel in both hands like a weapon. “Back off,” he said, voice firm.

The thing that looked human laughed. “Or what? Are you going to hit me with a shovel again?”

“If I have to,” John retorted. He glanced over his shoulder at Stacy, his eye darting between her and the surrounding areas before turning back to look at the thing.

The smile stretched wider still. “Wow. Good luck with that. This has nothing to do with you, øħŐÁê. Unless…oh, oh you’re the friend she keeps talking about, aren’t you?” John didn’t answer, but the thing gasped like he had. “Oh, you are! She’s calling you John, I suppose you don’t object because it’s not too far off. You’ve been warning her away from me, but she hasn’t listened, has she?”

“Hey, I mean, it paid off in the end.” John glanced back at Stacy again, who was frozen in place, trying to figure out what that one word the thing had called John was. “Here we are, she’s on the other side of you. You failed, so go. Isn’t that sort of your thing?” John looked around the surrounding areas again, glancing back at Stacy with some urgency in his eye. What was that…? Stacy realized he was glancing back towards where she’d parked her car. He was telling her to run.

“So you assumed I wanted her for myself?” The thing sounded amused. “Oh, no. I’ve found humans with children are more resistant than the ones with no family. They have that connection.”

Stacy glanced back at Mathew and Larkin, squeezing Lark’s hand. She also glanced in the car’s direction, and luckily her kids were a lot quicker on the uptake than she had been. Mathew nodded firmly, and Larkin squeezed her hand back, biting his lip and straightening.

Confusion crossed John’s face. “…what?”

“Humans know each other, do you not think that things like us know each other?” The thing smirked. “Misery loves company, and I’m willing to do it a favor.”

The confusion gave way to realization. “Oh my god…” John whispered. Stacy tensed, her eyes wide as she reached the same realization.

“Gods have never been any help to you,” the thing said tauntingly. “Now, if you’ll just step aside—”

John stood up straight. “No.”

The thing’s mouth curved into a scowl, and for a moment its teeth seemed a bit too sharp. “ _Move,_ ” it growled.

“No. What’re you going to do, kill me?” John smirked, suddenly confident. He gave Stacy one last look. She nodded imperceptibly. A part of her wanted to ask what he was going to do. She didn’t want to just abandon him. But…she had her kids behind her. They were practically everything she had left. She had to protect them at all costs.

Oddly, the thing seemed reluctant to move forward with John in the way. It stepped to the side, only for the movement to be shadowed by John. It hissed, and looked over his shoulder, gaze landing on Stacy. “Hey, Stace,” it said, tone shifting into something more human than not. “Maybe we should—”

Stacy turned and ran, grabbing Mathew by the arm and pulling him and Larkin behind her. She heard a decidedly inhuman shriek, followed by a few sounds of footsteps, then John yelled, and there was a heavy _thump!_ Mathew tried to look over his shoulder, but stumbled and faced forward again.

They reached the car quickly. Stacy pulled open the driver’s side door. “Get in, get in!” She shouted, and Mathew and Larkin climbed into the car through the driver’s door. Larkin tumbled over into the back seat while Mathew smushed against the passenger side window and tried to untangle his legs and sit. Stacy turned the keys—which she just now realized she’d left in the unlocked car—and the engine started. Without even bothering to put on a seatbelt, she hit the gas and threw the car into reverse. It shot out of the parking space, and after a moment of squealing and turning, darted off.

“Mom…?” Mathew said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Stacy glanced at him. “It’s…a long story, Mat. Just…remember how our last house had a ghost?” Mathew’s eyes widened, and she looked away again, back into the park. She could make out two figures rolling around, one apparently pinning the other to the ground. Hitting the brakes, she watched, trying to make out details. But they were…fuzzy. Her eyes were going out of focus, her vision doubling at times. She backed up, pointing her car towards the fighting pair and turning on her high beams. Light flooded the scene, just in time for the figure being pinned to throw off the other and back up. That one was wearing a red hood…

Instinctively, Stacy hit the gas and the car lunged forward, surging over the curb, across the sidewalk and onto the grass. The red hooded one stood up, and seemed to look in her direction, surprisingly unbothered. But perhaps she was making that up, since it was only a few seconds before the front of the car slammed into the red hooded thing. Stacy shouted, Mathew yelled, and Larkin screamed as they all felt the four wheels bump over something. Stacy quickly hit the brakes again, jolting forward. Pain burst in her face, and blood started to trickle from her nose. “Ow! Fuck!” She shouted instinctively, then turned to look at her kids. “Is everyone alright?”

Mathew sat up straight, rubbing his forehead where it had hit the dashboard. Larkin poked his head around the back of Mathew’s seat, looking shaken but unharmed. “We’re okay, Mom,” Mathew muttered, and Larkin nodded.

“Good,” she muttered, and then she rolled down the window and poked her head out. “John?!”

John was standing a mere six inches away from where the car had barrelled forward. After Stacy called for him, he grabbed the back car door and threw it open, climbing inside. “Jesus fucking christ, Stacy!” He shouted.

“Look, I panicked, I didn’t want you to get hurt!” Stacy said.

“Fucking hell!” John slammed the car door closed. “Drive!”

“Drive?” Stacy repeated, puzzled.

“Drive!” John twisted over and pointed out the back windshield. 

Stacy turned around to look, as did Mathew and Larkin. There was a crumpled form laying on the ground, but soon it began to move. Bones audibly snapped back into place, and the thing in the red hood arched its spine, lifting itself up onto its hands and feet in an extreme backbend. With another jerking motion, it elevated onto the tips of its fingers and toes, balancing its whole bent weight on those small points. Its head cracked to the side and back, and its smile widened.

“Oh fuck!” Stacy hit the gas again, just as the thing rushed at them, still in that bizarre bent-backwards position. Stacy swerved to the side and back onto the sidewalk, then off the curb onto the road again. As soon as she hit the road, she sped up even further.

“What was that?! What was that?!” Mathew cried.

“Mat, it’s a monster! Demon!” Larkin said. “Duh!”

“Don’t tell your brother ‘duh,’ Lark,” Stacy said automatically. “And yes, it’s a monster.”

“It was doing like, the crazy thing from _The Exorcist_!” Mathew shouted. “I thought that was Mom’s friend, was it possessing her?!”

“I don’t think so, honey,” Stacy said. “I think it was always like that, but it made me think it was a human, a-and it got close to me, and—wait, when did you watch _The Exorcist_?”

“Mom, I think there are more important things to think about right now!” Mathew protested.

“Yeah, I gotta agree with him,” John jumped in. “Keep driving!”

“I’m not stopping!” Stacy snapped. “Why don’t you drive?!”

“I don’t know how,” John said casually.

“You know what that was,” Stacy said to him. “You warned me against it. Then you hit it with a shovel!”

“I would not recommend anyone else to do that,” John said. “That’s just my special circumstances.”

Stacy laughed hysterically. “What special circumstances would let you wrestle an—an eldritch horror to the ground and walk away unhurt?!”

“What, do you want my whole life story?” John asked defensively.

“No, but maybe just something! I’m so sorry for doubting you,” Stacy hurried to say. “Really, I am. But I really don’t know—well, anything about you! I don’t even know your real name.”

John laughed. “I told you my real name! Guess you forgot, too.”

“When did you do that?” Stacy asked, confused. “Did that…thing mess with my memory? Can it do that?”

“Slightly, I think,” John said. “Really it just…it’s really good at suggesting things, to say the least. You lose track of time. Want to spend more time with it. Will do anything it asks. Last time I saw it, it had wormed its way so far into someone’s head that it made him lose his fucking mind, the guy was so out of it and just screaming for this thing to come get him.” He shivered a bit. “Anyway—”

_Slam!_

Stacy screamed as something hit the back of the car. Something red that rolled right off the back windshield, leaving a long group of five scratches. The kids screamed in unison. “Holy shit! What the fuck?!” Stacy started to hit the brakes, then glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a figure in a red hood standing up. She then decided to speed up instead of slow down. “How’d it get here so quickly?!”

“Oh, what, you think the laws of space govern these guys?! No! If anything, it’s the other way around!” John looked out the back again. “Fuck, you need to get out of town. There’s no time to get anything from your house.”

“What? Noooo,” Larkin protested.

“Lark, honey, do you want the demon to find us again?” Stacy asked.

Larkin closed his mouth, and silently shook his head.

“It doesn’t usually follow people who get away,” John muttered. “This is weird…” He glanced at Stacy. “Did you get the same feeling that I got?”

“That _this_ thing was somehow working with the thing in that house?” Stacy asked.

John nodded.

“Well, if we get out of the city, it’ll leave us alone, right?” Stacy asked hopefully.

“Uh…no.” John sounded almost apologetic. “I know this one. It’s not bound to one place like the house thing was. It’s a wanderer. It’ll be able to follow us anywhere we go.”

“What?!” Stacy slapped the steering wheel. “ _Where_ are we supposed to go, then?!”

“Uh…” John trailed off. “I mean…you can always do what I do and…go around. Not stay in one place too long.”

Stacy paused. “Wait, is this thing the thing that…?”

“Ohhhh, no.” A slightly unhinged smile grew on John’s face. “Definitely not.”

Stacy fell silent for a while. She appeared to be concentrating on the road and not hitting anything at high speeds, but she’d still glance back at John every so often.

“Look, what do you want me to say, Stacy?!” John suddenly snapped, picking up on the glances. “That I clicked on some random video online that I thought was just an ordinary scary Internet video like fucking _Blair Witch_ and then the video freaked out with glitches and my life went to shit from that moment on?! Cause, y’know, I don’t feel like talking about my time in literal hell!”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Stacy said. Then she sighed, and repeated, more sincerely, “I’m sorry. I’m just…we can’t just wander around. The kids need stability, and to, you know…not be in danger.”

“That would be nice,” Mathew muttered.

John nodded silently. After a moment, he said tentatively, “There…might be one place it won’t follow us.”

“Where?” Stacy immediately asked.

“It’s a town in Ireland,” John said. “It won’t go near there.”

Stacy paused. “Why?”

“Uh…well.” John hissed, sucking air through his teeth. “More…supernatural shit. But if you don’t go into the woods, you should be okay. And at least you can, y’know, stay there. Instead of travelling all around Europe, afraid for your life.”

Stacy thought about it for a while. It was either this, or constantly flee. She sighed. “Alright, fine. How do we get there?”

“Uh, well, first you need to get to Ireland, so head west.” John glanced out the car window. “We’ve left town already, I see.”

“West. Okay.” Stacy awkwardly dug her phone out of her pocket—difficult under most circumstances, more dangerous when she was going this fast. She handed it to Mathew. “Mathew, can you use my GPS, please? Tell me how to head west.”

Mathew nodded, opening up the Maps app. Then he suddenly gasped. “I left my phone in the house.”

“We left a lot in the house,” Stacy sighed.

“I mean…” John piped up. “I grabbed your handgun.”

Stacy jumped, then coughed as Mathew and Larkin stared at her. “You…did, huh? When?”

“That night you left the kids alone and got arrested,” John explained. “I found it in your room. Wanted to make sure you didn’t…have anything that could hurt anyone. So I, uh, confiscated it. Put it with the rest of my stuff.” He paused. “Uh…then, earlier today, when I started to leave, I, uh…decided I couldn’t just…y’know, leave…you alone. So I, uh…put my stuff in your trunk.”

Stacy blinked. “Oh…I didn’t lock it?”

“You did. I picked it.” John smiled faintly. “Handy trick I figured out.”

“…huh.” Stacy bit her lip. “Maybe you can teach us how to do that.”

The car sped through the dark night, heading west, not stopping for as long as possible. And somewhere else, a thing in a red hood eventually stopped following. If they were heading where it thought they were heading, it would probably be for the best if he stayed away.

Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat. And more things hidden in the darkness that would be willing to help.


	18. Scary Stories

“...and all that was left were the bones! Ooooo!” The teenage storyteller lowered the flashlight, looking around at his audience—three other teens, all of whom looked very unimpressed. “Well? Not even a ‘oh no’?”

“I saw that coming from a mile away, Derrick,” said one of the others, adjusting her pointed glasses.

“Oh come on.” Derrick frowned. “You could’ve at least pretended to like it.”

“Your voice isn’t really cut out for horror, anyway,” said another, poking the campfire with a stick. 

“Well, can any of you do better?” Derrick looked around at the circle. The four friends were sitting on chairs, set around the central fire pit. There was a picnic table nearby with a kerosene lamp providing extra light, and a large tent big enough to fit all four of them. The campsite was a bit isolated, surrounded by large trees that hid the light of other fires lit by other campers. 

“Honestly, I don’t think any scary stories can get to me anymore,” one said.

“Oh really?” Asked the one in the glasses. “Why’s that, Winston?”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Winston scowled underneath the brim of his baseball cap. “And it’s because, Lilah, I know it’s all not real. I mean, yeah, if the story’s good it’ll come back to haunt me late at night, but that’s when all judgement has been abandoned. I can’t find a story anymore that’s good enough to freak me out as it’s happening.”

“Creepypasta has ruined you,” the last one muttered.

“That it has, Charlie. That it has.”

“Okay, I got an idea. Derrick, pass me the torch.” Lilah reached over and the flashlight, shining it under her face as was typical of scary-storytelling, though the illusion was a bit ruined by the sparkly pink ribbon in her hair. “Let me tell you an actual, real-life scary story. Let’s see if that rustles your jimmies, Win.”

“Let’s see if it does.” Winston smiled, settling back into his chair.

“So. You all know my cousin Eve, right?” Lilah started.

“The journalist one, right?” Derrick asked.

“Well, kinda. What she does is she writes articles for a travel magazine. So she goes around Europe, finding cities that don’t have much of a tourist industry and looking for things about them that would, like, draw people to the place. Also she had a partner, Kyle, who she had to write articles with.”

“Ugh, Kyle,” Charlie commented. “What a name.”

“Oh yeah, Kyle sucked. Whenever the family met up, Eve would always complain about him.” Lilah shook her head. “He was like, the kind of guy who always thought he knew best, and when people contradicted him he’d be all like, ‘yeah, sure.’ Then he went ahead and talked shit about them. She always had to double-check their articles before they went up to make sure he didn’t add any bullshit. Needless to say, he didn’t like her much either.”

All the teens muttered among themselves. The disapproval was clear. “Anyway, Eve and Kyle get assigned to go to this city in Germany,” Lilah continued. “And it’s like, a nice place. Clean, has some neat museums, the hotel they’re staying in is pretty swanky. So far, Eve is taking some favorable notes for the article. Kyle is annoyed at everything, though, bitching about how the service is terrible even though there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Okay, so that’s the set up, what happened to change it?” Charlie asked.

“So, end of the first day, dawn of the second. Eve’s taken notes of everything they could do in town, and she goes down to the hotel desk to get advice on what’s best. The hotel clerk is friendly, answers all the questions. It all goes normally, until right at the end of the conversation, when the clerk said, ‘oh yes, you und your frund vould do vell to be off ze ztreets by nightfull.”

Winston suddenly burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be a German accent?!”

“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” Lilah said defensively.

“I’ve heard more realistic accents from children’s shows!”

“What, can you do better?” Lilah muttered.

“Ah, in fact, I can!” Winston said, putting on an accent. “And I say your accent is simply terrible, Fraulein!” 

“Hey, we’re not here to judge by the quality of the accent, only the spookiness of the story,” Derrick said. “Keep on keepin’ on, Lilah.”

“Thanks, Derr,” Lilah said, grinning. “Anyway, the clerk says not to be on the streets after nightfall. Eve asks why, and the clerk says, ‘it gets very dangerus out zere, zat iz all. I vould hate for anyzing to happen to—’”

“Oh my god, stop, it’s hard to hear!” Winston groaned.

Lilah made a face in his direction, but obliged. “ The clerk says, ‘I would hate for anything to happen to you and your friend.’ Which is a bit sketch, and Eve knows it. She mentions this to Kyle, because even though Kyle’s a bitch she doesn’t want him to get physically hurt, and he’s just like, ‘This clerk was a girl, right? Of course she doesn’t want to walk out late at night.’”

“Ohhh, fuck this dude,” Derrick said.

“Fuck it sooo muuuch,” Charlie added.

“Right?!” Lilah nodded furiously. “Like, at this point with Eve telling this story, I was like, ‘I hope this dude gets eaten by a wolf.’”

“Wait, where did the wolf come from?” Winston asked.

“Shit, I forgot about that. Anyway,” Lilah continued. “They go throughout the city, visiting restaurants and these museums and looking around at the local architecture. At dinnertime, they go to this seafood place, and get chatting with the waiter. They mention they’re from out of town, and that they’re writing an article on the city to hopefully help out tourism. The waiter says, “Vell—sorry, well, if you are from out of town, you should know not to stay out after dark.’ Eve, having heard this for the second time, asks, ‘Why, what happens?’ And the waiter says, ‘Uh, well, we have some problems with wild dogs. They hunt at night.’ And Kyle says, ‘Well, that’s not gonna bring in the tourists.’” Lilah paused while all the others groaned. “So, after dinner, Eve notices it’s getting late, and convinces Kyle to go back to the hotel with her. But of course, he complains about it, and says that they have to check out the nightlife in town and see if there are any after dark specials running.”

“Well, from a business standpoint, he’s got a point,” Winston said. “I mean, he doesn’t have to be an asshole about it, but that is their job.”

“And I’m sure Eve would’ve agreed with you,” Lilah nodded. “But she’s noticing something weird. Most of the local shops and businesses are closing up. Not any of the chains, like McDonald’s or...I don’t know, chain clothing businesses. But the businesses unique to the city, that she’d usually be checking out and putting in the article? Closed. So she thinks there might be something to this. And, in the morning, she goes down to the lobby and there’s a local woman there. Eve starts chatting with her, and eventually the woman says ‘Oh, you are a visitor? Make sure to not go out after sunset, there are some gangs in the area that roam around after dark.’”

“Wait, what?” Charlie perked up, at attention. “Two different excuses? Ohhh that’s not a good sign.”

“Eve thought the same thing,” Lilah said gravely. “And she drew two conclusions. Either there are both wild dogs and street gangs, or the real reason why you shouldn’t go out at night is much worse than either of those. So it’s the third day they’re there, and it goes generally normally, but Eve and Kyle keep getting the same sort of thing whenever locals find out they’re not from around town: don’t go out after nightfall. So, most people would decide not to go out that night, right? Wrong!” Lilah jabbed her finger in the air. “Because here’s Kyle, an asshole who thinks he knows better than anyone else who’s ever lived. He starts to leave the hotel room, and Eve tries to stop him. Instead of doing literally anything sensible, Kyle blows up that she’s always been jealous of him and has always tried to stop him from succeeding, then storms off.”

Winston let out a long, low whistle. “Let me guess, he died?”

“Hmmm I didn’t say that,” Lilah said slowly. “So, Eve goes down and tries to stop him, but he’s already left, and it’s after sunset at this point. The clerk is like, ‘I saw your friend run off. Poor guy. Anyway, would you like some room service?’ Clearly trying to bribe her into staying in the hotel. Eve’s a bit nervous about Kyle, but she really doesn’t want to go out, so she stays in the room. Kyle doesn’t show up the next day, and she calls the local police, worried something happened. They say they’ll get on it, but in that tone of voice that suggests there’s nothing that can be done about this.”

“So, the Kyle guy just disappeared?” Derrick asked.

“Oh, no, not at all.” Lilah’s voice turned low and serious. “About a month later, she’s back home, she gets a call from this out-of-country number. And it’s a police officer from this German city. They need her to come in real quick so she can identify this head they found.”

There was a sharp inhale throughout the circle. “Just the head?” Charlie asked.

“So, Eve goes down to Germany,” Lilah continued. “She sees the head, and yeah, it’s Kyle. Missing his eyes and teeth and with a big hole in the back of the head. She asks the police what happened, and they found the head in a dumpster, along with a bunch of...flesh. And itty bitty pieces of shattered bones.”

Charlie covered their mouth. “Oh my god…”

“That is so fucked,” Derrick muttered.

Lilah looked over at Winston. “Well? What d’you think, Mr. Horror Aficionado?”

Winston adjusted his cap. “Pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’?!” Lilah repeated. “This guy disappears, and the next month, he’s in _pieces!_ ”

“I’ve heard it before,” Winston said, a little smugly.

“Yeah, in stories, I have too!” Lilah put down the flashlight, and put her head in her hands. “This is something that _actually happened_ to a guy my cousin knew, worked with a lot! And they never caught whoever did it, apparently!”

“Wait, how do you know they never caught them?” Derrick asked. “Do you just go down to—what’s the city name again?”

“Ah, I don’t remember,” Lilah shrugged. “Something that started with an A.”

“Do you just go down there regularly?”

“Well, no, but most serial killers don’t get caught, and given how everyone knew about this shit happening in the city, I’m assuming that’s what it is.”

“Where’d you hear that, Buzzfeed Unsolved?” Winston asked.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Charlie jumped in. “Did you guys see the last one? Of the last True Crime season? The finale?” The other three made various negative noises. “Oh.” Charlie shrugged. “I just thought it was funny.”

“What’s the case?” Winston asked.

“Oh, a recent one. I mean, like, two years ago. A YouTuber disappeared. And the boys went on this whole tangent about what if they disappeared.”

Lilah frowned. “How do YouTubers just...disappear? Wouldn’t people notice if they stopped uploading?”

“Not if it was a kinda small one,” Derrick pointed out.

“Well, this guy wasn’t small,” Charlie said. “He had like...ten million subscribers. But a few months before he disappeared he said he was gonna take a break from uploading and other media, so I don’t think the community noticed when he actually disappeared. Though, I guess they started wondering eventually...and that’s why it’s a famous case. Dude straight-up left. Why? The case remains...unsolved.”

“Maybe he just got tired of YouTube drama,” Winston muttered.

Charlie frowned. “I don’t think so. Personally, I think he went kinda crazy. Like...actually had problems or something. After watching the Unsolved episode, I went to look at his last uploaded videos and they were...weird. I’d link you the episode and the video, but y’know. No wifi.”

“Feel free to send it later, sounds interesting,” Winston said. “Anyway—”

“Do you guys hear that?” Derrick interrupted.

“Hear what?” Lilah asked.

The group fell silent. After a few seconds, Charlie said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” Derrick frowned. “There were, like, crickets. But they just stopped.”

“...huh,” Winston said. “That’s weird. Why—”

“Oh my god!” Lilah pointed at something. “What’s that?!”

The group all turned, and saw a shadow, flickering against a tree in the light caused by the campfire. It got bigger, and shifted, and a large man rounded out from behind one of the nearby pine trees. “Sorry, did I frighten you?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

“Uh…” Derrick looked around the group, then back at the man. He looked a bit like a lumberjack, with a big bushy beard and a flannel, but the illusion was ruined a bit by the patterned pajama pants. “A little bit, sir.”

“Hmm.” The man nodded slowly. “It wasn’t my intention. I heard you kids discussing...scary stories?”

“Um, yeah,” Charlie said, picking up the stick they’d been using to poke the fire. “I mean, not exactly stories. True stories, I guess.”

“True stories,” the man repeated, nodding again. “I see.” He walked over to the picnic bench and sat down, stumbling on the last few steps. “Well, I have a few true stories of my own. Would you like to hear one?”

The teens exchanged looks, clearly uneasy. Lilah slowly reached into her pocket, seeming to grab something. “Uh...sure, mister,” she said.

“Excellent.” The man leaned forward, the firelight casting deep shadows on his face. “This is a true story, as well. It took place over a hundred years ago. There was a...person.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Winston muttered. All the others instantly made shushing sounds at him.

“There was a person,” the man repeated, unphased. “They were a dollmaker.” Winston rolled his eyes quietly. Of all the group, he was the only one who was unphased by the appearance of a tall, burly man in the middle of the woods. He seemed more interested in critiquing the story’s cliches. “What did they do with these dolls? Which one became evil?”

“This is not a story about dollmaking,” the man said, suddenly stern. “I’m telling you what they do so that you can better understand. The dollmaker puts—put pride and care in their creations, trying to make them last as long as possible. Their life was average, for what they were. Until one day. The dollmaker was home, just about considering going out and starting on another doll, when the phone rang. Now, this was odd. This was long before phones could be carried about in your pocket, and in fact, phones were a new device. A phone had to be wired to a house, and the house the dollmaker was in had no phone wires connecting it. But they were curious, and thinking a friend had found a way to call them, they picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’ they said. But there was no answer. Just the vague crackling of static before it was called so. And after a moment, the dollmaker heard their own voice repeated back to them. ‘H-he-he-hello-o-o?’ Strange. Though the dollmaker said more, the other end never said anything else. So they thought it was a mistake, and dropped it.

“But the next day, the phone rang again. The dollmaker answered it again. And there was indeed a voice on the other end this time, but it was breaking, barely able to be understood as a voice and not just some strange noises. The dollmaker was not dull, it—they knew something strange was happening, knew something was behind it. But they were overconfident. They believed that whatever was calling could not touch them. The phone rang three more times over the following week, and they didn’t answer it at all.

“Then, one day. The dollmaker returned, having been out all night making a doll. And the lights of the house were flickering. Strange. The dollmaker went inside, and the phone started ringing once more. This time, they picked it up. The same voice was on the other end, though they still couldn’t understand what it was saying. Uneasy, the dollmaker dropped the phone. And then they looked out the window.

“There was something there. A many-eyed something, pressed against the glass, smearing blood across it. And it smiled at the dollmaker, and said something that was utterly incomprehensible, but somehow—somehow understandable. ‘I will make you mine,’ it said. ‘I will take what is yours and use it.’ And the dollmaker was frightened for the first time in m—in their long life. So they ran.

“They ran for three years. No matter where they went, the many-eyed thing was always right on their trail. Sometimes it caught up, and they had to fight it, and barely got away. After every conflict, they grew weaker. And the next time it caught up, they were not prepared. They were hiding in a house up north, alone with a single doll who they eventually lost. And when the many-eyed thing showed up, they couldn’t run fast enough. It took...them.

“It was nineteen years before they could find their way out. By then, they could not speak. They could not walk. They could not do half the things they once could, and spent one year with their friend in the wilds, finding new ways to do what they needed. And the many-eyed thing was still out there. Decades passed, and they heard of similar things happening to others, including a doctor who is very like themselves. Nobody and nothing is safe. The eyes continue to lurk.”

Complete and total silence fell. The group of four stared, wide-eyed, at the man. Even Winston, so cocky and unafraid before, was speechless, looking around as a chill ran down his spine.

The man stood up, the movement so quick it caused the four teens to jump. “Well, I’d best be going. You kids here for any longer?”

After a moment, Derrick cleared his throat and answered, “We’re going to leave in the morning.”

Suddenly, Charlie shrieked. Everyone tensed and looked over at them. “S...sorry,” they said. “I just thought I saw something...there.” They pointed at the tree behind the man—or rather, above the man, at the branches above his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said dismissively. “There’s all sorts of wildlife out here.”

“It looked...big,” Charlie said hesitantly.

“Then it was your imagination.” The man tilted his head, and turned on his heel. Without another word, he left.

The total silence continued for a few moments more. Then Charlie jabbed their stick at the fire, and it started crackling again, the crickets chirping once more. “Should we...go to bed?” Lilah asked.

“Maybe some of us...but not all of us,” Winston said slowly. “Just to be...safe.”

Nobody said what they were trying to be “safe” about. Maybe none of them knew. But slowly, the group dispersed, and over time, fell asleep.

When they were leaving in the morning, they passed by a woman talking to one of the rangers, practically frantic. Her husband had disappeared last night. Nobody had heard anything. Anything at all.


	19. And the Show Goes On - Part One

The road was a simple, narrow path, only two lanes. It cut through the trees of the deep forest, the branches above stretching to cover it like a canopy, the roots causing cracks in the asphalt. It was almost like the woods were trying to reclaim the narrow stretch of man-made land. The canopy caused an artificial twilight, and the car driving down the road had to turn its lights on to be able to see.

“I think we’re almost there,” Stacy said, peering through the windshield. It was hard to see far, what with the darkness caused by the trees and the weird fog hovering around the trunks. She glanced in the rear-view mirror to look at the backseat. “How’re we holding up, boys?”

Mathew made an OK sign with his hand, headphones on. Larkin was busy staring out the window, his coloring book discarded.

“Great, glad we’re doing tip-top,” Stacy commented.

John, sitting in the passenger seat beside her, chuckled. “Tip-top?” He asked.

“Yes, tip-top,” Stacy said, doubling down on the phrase. “We’re all hunky-dory.”

“God, you’re so American and cheesy,” John muttered, smiling a bit. He was leaning back against the seat, eye closed and deliberately not looking out at the trees.

“Hmm.” Stacy hummed, nodding. She fell into quiet thought for a bit. They’d come a long way from their small town in California. Two years ago, she would never have guessed that she’d end up halfway across the world, running away from some…supernatural evil. Or, well, two of them, technically.

“Oh!” Larkin pointed out the window. “Did you see that?”

“See what, Lark?” Stacy asked.

“There was a…a Cheshire cat out there,” Larkin said. “In the forest.”

John suddenly whipped around, looking over the seat. “ _Don’t_ look at it.”

“What? Why not?” Larkin asked.

“Just trust me on this one,” John said, voice lowering. “Okay?”

“What do you mean by a Cheshire cat, Lark?” Stacy asked cautiously.

“A smiling cat! Didn’t anyone else see it? Matt!” Larkin reached across and started pushing his brother. “Did you see the cat?”

“No, I didn’t see any cat,” Mathew muttered, adjusting his headphones and sinking further into the seat.

Stacy frowned, and considered saying something, but was distracted by light appearing at the end of the road. “Oh, I think that’s it!” she said, trying to sound excited.

The car passed out from the forest as if leaving a tunnel. Afternoon sunlight abruptly appeared. The road winded down a sloping hill, leading to a collection of buildings down below. The car passed a sign made of stone, reading **Welcome to Foraois Hollow.**

“Still the most uncreative name,” John muttered. “Foraois is literally ‘forest,’ how very original. I bet the English had something to do with it.”

“Do you speak…whatever language that is?” Mathew piped up.

“Irish, and yes,” John said. “Not fluently, but better than I used to.”

“People still speak Irish?” Mathew asked.

“Yeah, of course we do,” John said, laughing a bit. “Especially in the actual country we’re from.”

“You’re Irish?!” Stacy remarked with some surprise.

“Yeah. Can’t you tell?”

“I…can now.” She’d always sort of picked up that John had an accent, but hadn’t registered which accent it was. Until he brought it up.

John smiled sadly. “‘S okay. Not your fault.”

The rest of the drive into the small town was quiet. The buildings of Foraois Hollow wouldn’t have been out of place 200 years ago. Charming houses with peaked roofs and white walls lined the streets, until the streets eventually clustered together in what looked like the business quarter, around a paved town square. People were walking around, going about their day…though Stacy couldn’t help but notice that a lot of them stared at the car as it drove past. Perhaps that was because most people seemed to prefer walking here, but she got the feeling it was more than that.

Stacy pulled to the side of the road right next to the square. “Alright, break time,” she said. “Let’s stretch our legs while I look for a hotel. Or something.”

Larkin opened the car door and hopped out, looking around. “Cool!” He said. “Mom, can I go look around? Please?”

“Look around? Hmm…” Stacy gave the town square a once-over. There were a few booths selling food and trinkets. The people walking around seemed normal, but you could never be sure. “Alright. Just stay where I can see you, ok?”

“Okay!” And with that , Larkin ran off, running up to the nearest booth and getting on his tiptoes to inspect the wares.

Mathew climbed out of the car as well. “Huh.” He lowered his headphones. “This is, like…quaint.”

“Yes, it is,” Stacy said cheerfully. “I’ve never heard you use that word before. Did you read it somewhere?”

“Uh…yeah.” Mathew leaned against the car. “What? It fits.”

“It does. I’m not saying you’re wrong.” Stacy pulled out her phone and typed ‘hotels near me’ into her browser. She squinted. “Huh…no results? That’s odd.”

John pushed open the door and leaned out. “No hotels, huh? Yeah, I think I remember that.”

“So you’ve been here before,” Stacy clarified. She’d been suspecting that.

John nodded. “Stopped by,” he said vaguely.

Stacy dropped it there. It was clear from his tone that John didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she turned her attention back to her search for hotels. The wifi connection was secure, so it wasn’t that the results weren’t loading, it was just that there were no hotels for miles. The closest one was appearing in the next town over, the town they’d left two hours ago. She tried changing the search to motels, but got the same results. “Why don’t they have any hotels? Isn’t that a bit of an oversight?”

“People don’t really stop by here often,” John said. “And I don’t know if they want people to stay.”

Stacy shivered a bit. “That sounds…ominous.”

“Oh it isn’t, really,” John said casually. “It’s for everyone’s good. You remember what I said on the way over here? About the forest?”

Stacy nodded. “After we finish driving through it, don’t go in there ever.”

“Exactly.” John looked away, turning his attention to watching the town square. “I think if people stay here, they might eventually be tempted to do that, so there are no hotels or anything to discourage long stays.”

“But…we’re supposed to be staying here,” Stacy said slowly. “To stay away from Jaq—that…thing.”

“Yeah, but we know better,” John said.

Stacy wasn’t so sure about that, and the sentiment didn’t make her feel better at all. “Still…” she said, slowly changing the subject. “Where are we going to stay? You’ve been here before, where did you stay?”

John blinked. “I…I live in a tent,” he reminded her.

“Ah. Right.”

“Hey Mom,” Mathew piped up. “Why don’t we just ask someone if there’s a place we can stay?”

“Ah. Yes, good idea, Mat,” Stacy said, nodding. There were a whole bunch of locals in the square, surely one of them would have an answer. She straightened, looking around to see who was most approachable. But her eyes landed on someone else. “Oh? It looks like Larkin’s already making friends.”

Larkin had moved on from the booth he was originally interested in, and was now running circles around a different booth, chasing a boy who looked about his age. The two of them stopped and switched direction a couple times, like they were reenacting one of those comedic movie scenes where people tried to duck around a central item only to find their opponent blocking them. Chuckling to herself, Stacy walked over. “Hey Lark. Having fun?”

“Hi Mom!” Larkin stopped the chase. “This is Nick!”

The other boy, shorter than Larkin and with dark curls, grinned and waved at Stacy. “Howya, Lark’s mam?”

“I’m doing very good. It’s nice to meet you, Nick,” Stacy said cheerfully.

“Nice t’meet you too!” Nick said. “How long are you gonna be passin’ through?”

“Yeah, Mom!” Larkin added.

“Oh. Well, we’re actually going to be staying for…a while,” Stacy explained. “But we don’t really have anywhere to stay.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Oh oh oh! You should stay with me! Then me and Lark can play all the time!”

Larkin gasped. “Mom, please? Pleeeaase?”

Stacy smiled, but it contained a hint of sadness. It had been a while since Larkin had so easily hit it off with a kid his age. “Well, I think Nick will have to ask his parents—”

“I can do that!” Nick squealed. He ran over to a nearby booth, selling bundles of yarn and what looked like other sewing or knitting supplies. The booth was being manned by a woman about Stacy’s age, with the same dark curls as Nick. “Mammy! Mammy! Maaaam!” Nick yelled, jumping up and down right by the woman.

“Hmm? What is it, pancake?” The woman asked, looking down and blinking slowly.

“Mammy, this is Larkin Allen and his mam!” Nick said, pointing back at Stacy and Larkin. “They’re gonna be stayin’ for a while. Can they stay with us, Mam? Please?”

The woman looked over at Stacy, giving her a quick once-over. Stacy waved. “Why’re you stayin’ in town, can I ask?” the woman asked in a flat tone.

“Oh! Uhhh…” Stacy tried not to squirm at the awkwardness that question raised. She wasn’t sure how much to say about the weird supernatural stuff that was following them, even if there was apparently weird supernatural stuff in the nearby woods. “My friend suggested it,” she finally decided on, pointing back towards her parked van where John and Mathew were having a chat. “He said this would be a…safe…place,” she said slowly.

“Mm-hmm.” The woman rubbed her eyes. “I see. Well, I s’pose that’s subjective, but if you insist. I’m Colleen. Colleen Iontach. And you are? And your friend?”

“Um, Stacy. Stacy Allen. My friend’s name is…John,” she settled on. “He’s over there with my other son Mathew.”

“Alright, Stacy. If you’re wantin’ t’stay, I’m not gonna stop you.” Colleen shrugged. “And might as well house ye for as long as that is.”

Nick and Larkin gave out a loud cheer, and immediately began buzzing with chatter.

“Oh. Thank you so much,” Stacy said. “Really. I tried to look up hotels, but—”

“There aren’t any nearby, yeah,” Colleen finished. She took a spiral notebook and pencil out of her pocket, scribbling something down and tearing off the page. “This is my address. Head down that street over there to get it. If Nick wants, you mind givin’ him a ride home?”

“Oh, no problem,” Stacy agreed, taking the paper. “Kids? Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, I’d love t’drive home with you!” Nick shouted. “I can tell you if you’re goin’ the wrong way!”

“Alright, let’s go then!” Stacy laughed.

Heading back to the car, Larkin and Nick rushed ahead, with Larkin introducing his new friend and his brother to each other. Stacy went more slowly, taking a moment to read the address.

“So I guess you found a place, then, huh?” John asked.

“Yep.” Stacy folded the paper and put it in her pocket. “We’re heading there now.”

“Great.” John watched the three kids interacting. He frowned. “I think I know…nevermind.”

“Hmm? Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Stacy said.

John shook his head. “Nevermind, just thought this kid looks familiar, but, you know, can’t be sure.”

“Huh. Well, isn’t it a possibility, if you’ve been here before?” Stacy prompted. “Maybe ask him if you’ve met.”

“Can’t,” John said shortly.

“…okay, then. Let’s, uh, go.” Stacy rounded around the car to the driver’s side, hopping inside. John just got stranger and stranger the longer she knew him. But there was a sadness that hovered around him, a sort of…grief, almost. So she wouldn’t be pushing it further or blaming him for sometimes seeming a bit odd.

* * *

There was nothing extraordinary about the address Colleen had given her. It was a house just like all the others on the street, the only difference between it and them being a smudged chalk drawing on the sidewalk in front. Stacy guessed that was Nick’s work, probably done a day or two earlier.

As soon as the van pulled to a stop, Nick hopped out—a little before the car had completely stopped rolling, in fact. “C’mon, c’mon!” he shouted. “I’ll introduce you to Grandmam!” And without another word, he ran inside.

“Hey, wait up!” Larkin jumped out of the car as well and followed him.

Mathew stared out the car window. “So we’re really gonna stay with these people?” His tone was less than enthusiastic.

Stacy sighed. “Yes, Mat. For now, at least. Why? Is something wrong?”

Mathew shrugged. “No.” He climbed out of the van before Stacy could say anything else.

“…huh.” Stacy stared after him, biting her lip. He’d been pretty quiet on the drive here. Though she supposed there was a reason for that. After all, the last thing they’d seen right before leaving was a monster coming after them. That would be enough to freak anyone else. Larkin seemed fine, but maybe he was just repressing it…

“You okay?” John asked.

Stacy jumped, and tried to smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, just…thinking about the kids.”

“They’re good kids,” John said. He paused, and in a softer voice, added, “They’ll be alright.”

She didn’t respond, silently climbing out of the car and walking towards the house’s front door. After a moment, she heard the van door open and slam close as John followed her.

The inside of the house was as quaint as the outside. Wooden floors and walls papered in a design that looked fairly old. The furniture also looked old, not in that it was run down, but in that the style could’ve been taken out of the 1930’s. There was a huge fireplace, with a rocking chair nearby that Mathew had settled into, once again pulling his headphones on. A wide doorway led to a hallway, through which another arch showed the kitchen, and Nick and Larkin inside talking to someone.

“—and his mam—” Nick glanced over, catching sight of Stacy. “Oh! She’s right here!” He waved. “Hi Ms. Allen! Come meet Grandmam!”

Stacy wandered over and entered the kitchen. Nick was tugging on the skirt of a tall older woman, who had her gray hair pulled up in a bun. The old woman was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping carrots and other vegetables with a large knife. She stopped and looked up once Stacy entered the room. “Um, hello,” Stacy said, waving. “I hope you don’t mind us staying. I’m Stacy, this is Larkin—”

“Hi!” Larkin said.

“My other son, Mathew, is in the front room.” Stacy turned around to point behind her, and saw John standing in the doorway, staring at the old woman with wide eyes. “Oh. And, uh, this is my friend John.”

“Well nice t’meet ye,” the old woman said. “Don’ worry about stayin’ it’s no trouble. We often play inn to people passin’ by. The name’s Roisin Iontach. I see you’ve all met Nicolas, and must’ve met my daughter Colleen.” Roisin smiled warmly, then looked away from Stacy and over at John. She nodded. “Nice t’see ye again.”

John started, and made a strangled choking sound. “You…remember me?” His tone was shocked, but contained a strange hopeful note.

“Can’ remember your name, and I can’ recall your face,” Roisin said idly. “It took me a while to recognize the Evil Eye around ye, and then it came runnin’ back t’me.”

John stared at her, absolutely stunned. Stacy, confused, glanced in between the two of them. “Um…so you two know each other?” she asked, trying to keep up a pleasant tone.

Roisin returned to chopping vegetables. “I suppose we do. Now why don’t you all get your things set up in the guest bedroom? It shoul’ be large enough for all o’you.”

“Oh! Oh! I can show them!” Nick said, grabbing Larkin by the hand and running out. He grabbed Stacy’s hand as well as he passed. “C’mon!”

“Ah! Alright, alright, slow down!” Stacy found herself being pulled down a hallway towards a set of stairs. She glanced back behind her to see John still standing there, frozen, staring at Roisin with a strange expression that she thought might be awe.

* * *

Things settled into a routine fairly quickly. Stacy and the kids stayed in the guest bedroom of the Iontach house, while John returned to his tent, which he’d set up on a small patch of grass behind the house that wasn’t big enough to be called a yard. The Iontach family seemed friendly, but Stacy was still a bit wary. Of course Larkin seemed happy to hang out with Nick. The two of them made an energetic pair, running around the house and nearby area while Nick showed Larkin everything. Colleen didn’t seem to be home often. She was either at work or running that booth in the town square, which apparently served as an additional source of income. As far as Stacy could tell, Colleen was the only parent in the house; there wasn’t a Mr. Iontach anywhere to be seen.

Roisin sometimes seemed a bit…odd. In a way that couldn’t be explained by age. Stacy couldn’t forget that small interaction the older woman had with John. She kept trying to find the time, or the nerve, to ask Roisin what that was about, what she meant by the Evil Eye. But every time, her anxiety got the better of her. She tried asking John about it, but of course, he refused to say anything.

And besides, Stacy thought there might be something else she had to devote her attention to. Mathew had been quiet ever since arriving in town a few days ago. Very quiet. All he seemed to do was mope around in the guest bedroom listening to music. True, he did that before, but not nearly as often. She was starting to get concerned.

About four days after they’d settled in to stay with the Iontachs, Stacy headed up to the guest bedroom, finding the door closed. She knocked on the solid wood gently. “Hello? Anyone there?” There was no answer, but she knew Mathew was inside, so she pushed open the door and peered inside.

Mathew was lying on the queen-sized bed he’d been sharing with Larkin recently, staring at the ceiling. He was wearing his headphones, but Stacy knew he could still hear her.

She quietly walked in, stopping next to the bed. “Mind if I sit here, Mat?” She waited for Mathew to shrug in response before sitting down on the edge of the bed. The room was quiet for a bit. “Do you want to talk about anything?” she finally asked gently.

Mathew exhaled slowly. He blinked. “Mom,” he finally said. “Are we fucked?”

Stacy made a strangled choking noise. “M-Mathew, I’ve told you, that word isn’t allowed until you’re fifteen. But, um, anyway. What do you mean by that?”

He sighed, and reached up to rub his eyes. “I mean…there was that ghost…thing…in the first house we moved to. That made us move again. Then there was that thing pretending to be your friend. That made us move here. Are we just…just going to have…things…coming after us forever?” His voice went very quiet on that last question.

“Oh, honey,” Stacy said. “No, don’t worry. We’re going to be safe here.”

“But there’s something in the woods,” Mathew whispered, finally looking over at her. “Larkin saw it on our drive here. And John knows about it. And I think everyone here knows about it.”

“Well…” Stacy hesitated. “It’ll be fine as long as we don’t go in the forest, yeah? I think it’s stuck there.”

Mathew sighed again, and looked away. 

“…Look.” Stacy scooted closer. “I know, this whole thing is…scary. It’s very scary. And honestly, it still feels kind of unreal. But we’re going to be alright, okay?”

“You don’t know that,” Mathew muttered.

“You’re right, I don’t.” She inched closer still. “But I do know that we’re one smart, brave family. We’ve been through a lot so far, and we can weather through more.” She gave him a small smile. “We’re gonna be okay. And I’ll make sure you and Larkin are safe, no matter what. I promise.”

A pause. Then: “Thanks, Mom,” Mathew said quietly. He was blinking furiously, eyes welling up.

“Is there anything I can do for you now? A snack or anything?”

“Nah, just tell me when dinner’s ready.”

“Will do, Mr. Mattykins.”

Mathew laughed a bit. “Mom, I’m not five.”

“I know, I know,” Stacy relented, grinning. “I just had to. I’ll see you later, okay?” She stood up, and headed out, leaving the door open. Mathew didn’t ask for her to close it.

* * *

The next day, Colleen approached her while she was sitting in the living room, reading a book she’d picked up from a local shop. “Hey Stacy?” she asked. “I hate t’do this, but can you watch the yarn booth today? I just got called in for a shift.”

“Hmm? Oh. Um, sure.” Stacy slid a bookmark in between the pages. “Um, where do you work, by the way?”

“Hospital,” Colleen said absentmindedly. “Simon used t’work there, too.”

“Oh. Your…husband?” Stacy asked carefully.

“Yeah. He’s not with us anymore.”

“Yeah…” Stacy looked down. “My husband isn’t, either.”

“I figured.” Colleen’s tone was very dull, as it usually was. “How’d it happen?”

Stacy squeezed her fingers into fists. “Car crash. Drowsy driving.” Even though it was almost two years ago, she felt a lump in her throat. “Um…what about Simon?”

Colleen looked her dead in the eye. “He went into the woods a month before.” She fell quiet. Stacy shifted uneasily in her seat. “He was from out o’town. Like you guys. Anyway, the booth is pretty simple. Here’re all the things ye need.” She pointed to a couple canvas bags on the ground. “Set it up. Casheirin’ should be easy. Good luck.” And she disappeared out the front door.

“Oh. Uh…okay,” Stacy said, hurriedly standing up.

The booth was pretty simple to run. If a customer stopped by, be friendly. If they asked her who she was, she explained that she was new and staying with the Iontachs. Things proceeded quickly from there, and she closed up around seven, gathering up everything unsold and replacing it in the bags to drive back to the house.

Just as she was finishing packing up, she felt a chill run along the back of her neck. Immediately, she stopped, and looked around. The town square was pretty empty. And of the few people here, none of them were looking at her. But she could see, from a distance, a view of the forest, visible due to it being up on higher ground. Squinting at the forest, she took out her phone and opened up the camera, using it to zoom in on the trees. It was still hard to see anything, so far away. But…for a moment, maybe something moved. Maybe. She couldn’t be sure.

Shivering, she quickly headed back.

* * *

Seven o’clock was already quite dark at this time of year. When she arrived back at the house, parking on the street and heading in, the entire street was bathed in shadows. Stacy hurried inside.

Roisin was sitting in the rocking chair, knitting and generally being the perfect image of a kindly old grandmother. She looked up when Stacy entered, and smiled. “Ah. Welcome back, Ms. Allen. How was the booth?”

“Um, good.” Stacy set the bags down, and was about to head up to the guest bedroom to look for the kids, but she hesitated and turned back. “Hey, um, Roisin. I have a question.”

“Hmm? Ask away, then.”

“So, this morning, Colleen said her husband, Simon, was from out of town,” Stacy said slowly. “And also, I think you said she was your daughter? But I was wondering about your last name, then. You’re all Iontachs, but how’s that possible? Did Colleen go back to her maiden name after her husband…passed?”

“Oh no, Simon took our name,” Roisin said cheerfully.

Stacy blinked. “Ah. So…is that a tradition here? Taking the wife’s last name?”

“No, not exactly,” Roisin continued, pausing in her knitting and focusing on Stacy. “The Iontach name is a powerful one, Ms. Allen. It is old, great, and magnificent. We’re descended from the magicians who settled this valley long, long ago. The only ones left who’re descended from them. So we know t’carry the name on. In marryin’, not takin’ the Iontach name is a, oh, how’s it said…a dealbreaker.”

“Oh. There are…magicians,” Stacy said slowly.

Roisin looked back at her knitting, needles clacking. “Well, perhaps not how ye think. Not like the wizards in fantasy, more like the witches that still exist today. Ye heard of Wicca?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Exactly. Same sort o’practices.”

“Oh.” Stacy hovered awkwardly for a moment. “So…would being descended from witches or whatever be part of the reason why you, uh…made that comment about an Evil Eye to John on our first day here?”

“That poor young man,” Roisin said, shaking her head. “Anyone wit’ the proper gift can tell just by lookin’ at him, yes?”

“Uh…I guess?” Stacy laughed nervously. “I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“You don’?!” Roisin dropped her knitting and stared at Stacy in utter shock. “Oh jesus, I thought you knew. Your son, the one friends with Nick—I s’pose he gets his sight from his father, then.”

“Wait, what did you say?” That phrase was somehow…familiar. Hadn’t she heard someone say that recently?

“Those of us who know the truth instinct’vely,” Roisin explained. “We can see past the lies and illusions the creatures of the world keep up. I assumed Larkin—nice, strong name, by the way—I assumed he got his sight from you. After all, you are runnin’ here to stay away from one o’them, aren’ you?” The old woman squinted, giving Stacy a once-over. “Yes, ye’ve been marked, same as your friend. Well, not exactly the same. Yours is older, smelling of dust. An’ the hold on ye is quite a bit weaker. Quite a bit.”

“I—I—uh—I mean, yeah but—not—” Stacy stammered. All this new information was a bit much. Larkin could see these things? Her instinct was to balk at the notion, but then she remembered back in the house in Bronainise. Larkin had been the first one to see the thing in there, and had apparently been friendly with it…and he realized right away what Jaqueline was…but really? He got that from his father? “I mean…my husband was really just an average guy. A bit of a dork, but funny and energetic. He couldn’t have been involved in all…this.”

Roisin had begun knitting again. “Well, it’s not like he’d have told ye he coul’ see monsters, woul’ he? Or maybe he didn’ know, himself.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not like it’s of any matter in the end. You’ve been marked all the same, an’ now you’re all here t’hide.”

“Okay, so, one last question,” Stacy hurried to say. “What…what do you mean by marked? Because that…doesn’t sound good.”

Roisin didn’t answer for a long while. She simply sat there, clacking her needles away. The silence went on for so long that Stacy sighed, and turned to leave. She was in the doorway when Roisin called out, “It means one o’them is int’rested in ye. For whatever end purpose. I’m sure you already know what yours is.”

Stacy hesitated in the doorway, then quickly left. 


	20. And the Show Goes On - Part Two

She woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, a cold sweat covering her. Was there a pressure on her chest? Had the last few months been a dream? Was she back in that house? Her eyes were closed tight, but she had to know. She had to be sure. Dread poured into her stomach as she cracked open her eyelids—

There was no thing there. No thing staring at her from the foot of the small bed she was sleeping in. No thing lurking in the corner of the Iontachs’ guest bedroom. She let out an audible sigh of relief.

It was fine. There were no whispers hovering in between awake and asleep. In fact, there was no sound at all. The room was very quiet. Honestly, it was a bit odd. Usually Mathew snored a bit. Stacy rolled over to look at the larger bed on the other side of the room where the boys appeared to be fast asleep. Appeared to be. They could always be pretending. In which case, she’d better let them get back to sleep.

She started to roll back over, but paused. A weird something had glinted in the corner of her vision. Her eyes darted around the room, now on high alert as her heartbeat rose. Ah, there it was. A small bit of spider thread in the corner of the window, reflecting the moonlight outside, just visible through a gap in the curtains. See? It was fine. No need to worry.

Stacy closed her eyes and firmly told herself to go back to sleep. Even if dreamland wasn’t so appealing, she needed the rest.

The curtains fluttered in a silent wind.

* * *

It rained a couple days later. It drizzled all through the cold morning, keeping everyone inside. Roisin showed Stacy how to make “real hot chocolate” (in her own words) on the stove for the three boys stuck in the house. Colleen still went to work; it seemed she was absent most days, leaving the house wearing blue scrubs and returning late at night. Larkin and Nick took a few old board games out of the closet, and managed to convince Mathew to join them.

The rain slowed into occasional droplets sometime in the afternoon, and Stacy grabbed her coat and headed out to the small patch of grass out back where John had pitched his tent. She hadn’t been seeing much of him lately, and she was a bit worried.

She hit on the side of the tent like she was knocking on a door, droplets of water getting her hands wet. Inside, John cried out. Movement rustled, and the tent entrance unzipped. “Can you please, please not do that?” John asked, sticking his head out.

“Sorry,” Stacy said, taking a step back. “Just wanted to, uh, see what was up with you. With the rain and everything, maybe it got wet out here.”

John shrugged. “I’ve been in worse weather. And with worse shelter than a tent, too.”

“Are you sure?” Stacy prodded. “Because you can come in the house, you know.” She hesitated. “I mean, unless you don’t like them or something. I’m not gonna make you.”

“They’re fine,” John said, rolling his eye.

“I mean, I just—Roisin knows you, so you’ve clearly met them before, I wouldn’t want to drag up old wounds or anything.”

“Stace, if you want to ask me what the deal is between me and the old lady, just ask, you don’t have to dodge around the subject.”

“…uhhh,” Stacy felt her face grow red with embarrassment. “So…you’ve been in this town before.”

“Foraois Hollow, yeah.” John scooted up close to the tent entrance and crossed his legs. “How do you think I knew it would be a safe place to hide from the thing in the red hood?”

“And there’s that, too,” Stacy added. “Don’t get me wrong, I am really glad we haven’t seen…that…in the week and a half we’ve been here. But why?” She glanced through the rainy skies, and pointed at the trees of the forest, up on the hills. The fog still lingered around their trunks. “Because of that? Is the forest, like, alive or something?”

“Or something,” John said casually. “Look, just understand that it’s really territorial, but it doesn’t come into town, so you’re good.”

“I—okay.” Stacy decided to drop it there for now. There was time to talk about that later. “Did you, uh, stay with these guys the first time you passed through, too? Or did you just know Roisin? Actually it’s probably that, otherwise Nick or Colleen would’ve said something—”

“No, I knew them,” John said. He was looking down at his lap, fingers picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans. “Didn’t know any of them really well, but they were nice enough to let me stay a few nights. Couldn’t stay long, cause this was before—” He suddenly stopped. “I-I wasn’t expecting any of them to recognize me. The fact that Roisin did is a miracle.”

“She said you were marked by this Evil Eye thing,” Stacy said, prodding gently. “That she remembered that. Apparently she has some sort of weird sight. Maybe the others do, too, but maybe they’re not as practiced at it?” It was a flimsy reason for why the other two Iontachs couldn’t remember John, but it was all she could come up with.

“She said that before, too,” John muttered, pulling a thread loose.

“Uh-huh.” Stacy nodded. “Um…I talked to her a few days ago, and she said that…” She hesitated to say it, but forced it out. “That I was somehow…marked…too. A-and that meant that something was…interested in me.” John didn’t say anything, still looking down. “It—it’s gotta be that thing from the house, right? Jaqueline—or that thing, whatever, it said as much. I mean, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Is…is that why you came here, before? To get away from whatever…it was that…?” She trailed off, realizing she was basically thinking out loud and not expecting an answer.

To be fair, John didn’t really seem that ready to give her an answer either way. He hadn’t moved, still pulling at the loose thread. Looking closer, his hands were now shaking. John took a deep breath, and looked up at Stacy. “Look…there’s not much to say about it. I was…I was on the run, came across a tiny town, and…found something in the forest. Found there were more…of them. Out there.” His voice lowered, barely audible. “And even they don’t want anything to do with me.”

Stacy was quiet. “I’m…sorry, John.”

“My name is ìŗĆºŷĻ.”

“Uh…sorry, I couldn’t catch that.”

“Nevermind.” John’s voice was heavy and tired. He backed up into the tent. “Thanks for saying I could come in. But I’ll just…just stay out here. See you later.” And he zipped the entrance back up.

“Um…see you.” Stacy turned and walked away, footsteps splashing in a puddle that marked the boundary of the grass and the paved stones that covered the rest of the house’s “backyard.” She looked around at the rain pattering on the ground. Or…actually, there was no pattering to be heard. No splashing, either. Stacy blinked, and reached up to clear her ears. Soon after she did, the normal sounds of the world returned. That was…odd. Very odd. Was her hearing going? If it was, it was probably the result of stress. Or…was it something else?

She spun in a circle, looking for anything weird. But everything looked the same. Nobody was out except for her, not even driving about. Nothing was moving within eyeshot. Still, she felt uneasy as she headed back inside the house.

On the house’s roof, a loose shingle fell to the ground as if disturbed, yet it made no sound as it crashed and broke.

* * *

The rain stopped by nightfall, leaving slick puddles that reflected the yellow light from the street lanterns. It was about ten o’clock. And Stacy was starting to grow a bit…concerned.

In the time she and the boys had been staying with the Iontachs, Colleen had always been home by nine thirty on the days she worked. It was possible that she’d had to stay late. Didn’t nurses often have to do that? But something didn’t sit right with that.

Larkin and Nick had gone to sleep, Mathew was hanging out in the house’s office, and Roisin was in her bedroom, getting ready to go to bed as well. Stacy was alone in the living room, playing a mindless bubble game on her phone and glancing at the front window every so often. Look back at the phone. Then at the window. At the phone. Then the window. Phone. Window. Phone. Wind—

Stacy gasped, almost dropping her phone. Colleen was staring at her through the window. She waved. Stacy waved back. And Colleen disappeared, opening the front door. “Stacy?” she asked.

“Y-yeah.” Stacy tried to laugh. “You scared me, jeez.”

“Sorry.” Colleen smiled easily. “Didn’t mean to.” She paused. “Hey, this might sound a bit strange, but I think I’ve found something you need to see.”

“Um…yeah, it does sound a bit strange,” Stacy said slowly. “What is it?”

Colleen glanced over her shoulder. “Well, I think it has to do with why you’re here. What you’re running from. But I need you to see it to make sure.”

Stacy perked up, shoving her phone in her pocket. “Okay, but what is it?”

Colleen hissed through her teeth. “Difficult to explain. And that’s saying something, considering what I’ve seen. It’s…dusty. Strange in this rain, isn’t it? Smells odd, too.”

 _Dust._ Stacy stiffened. “Hang on a second, I need to get something.” She stood up and quickly headed upstairs, sneaking into the guest bedroom and doing her best trying not to wake up Larkin, who should be fast asleep by this time. She opened the dresser drawer and pulled out her handgun and holster, putting it on. Glancing over at Larkin, she sneaked back out and headed down.

“A gun?” Colleen was standing in the exact same place as before. “Didn’t know you had one. Isn’t that a bit unsafe, with the children and all?”

“At this point, it’s less safe to have one than to not,” Stacy muttered, pulling on her coat. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Colleen smiled, a quick movement like someone was pulling on her face to make it. “Great. We’d better be careful, though, it’s a bit…odd. These things could be dangerous, but I’m sure you know that.” She turned and walked quickly out the door, Stacy hurrying to follow her.

“It’s some ways away,” Colleen said, briskly walking down the street. “Came across it on my walk home.”

“Okay. A-anything else?” Stacy asked, panting a bit. Colleen was really walking quick. She didn’t know she was that fast. “Like…what size is it?”

“Oh, about yea big,” Colleen pantomimed a box. “The size of a human head, I’d say.”

Stacy nodded, and fell silent as the two of them turned a street corner. She didn’t exactly appreciate that comparison; it made her imagine all sort of gruesome things this surprise could be.

“Just a block or two farther.” Colleen sped up more. Stacy broke into a light jog. How was Colleen simply walking this fast?

They rounded another corner, and Stacy immediately noticed something on the sidewalk, sitting in a circle of light caused by the street lanterns. “That’s a box,” she muttered. “It was difficult to explain that it was a box?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Colleen said She’d stopped walking, and now looked reluctant to get closer.

Stacy took a deep breath, and walked up to the box. It was a cardboard cube, covered in the gray dust that had plagued the house in Bronainise. A sharp, alcoholic smell was coming from it. She reached out, and stopped. Instead she grabbed her gun and leaned forward, prodding the cardboard lid with the end of the barrel. Nothing seemed to happen, but she still didn’t touch it. Carefully, she used the gun to push the lid off the box, dust falling to the wet ground, but not sticking. She leaned forward and peered into the now open box. And frowned. “There’s…nothing inside.”

“Oh? How odd,” Colleen said from her spot at the edge of the light.

Standing up, Stacy looked around. There wasn’t anyone nearby. Or anything, really. And she couldn’t hear anything either. Which…actually, that was kind of strange. Her eyes locked on a tree in the distance, leaves blowing in the wind. And she could feel the same breeze against her face. But she couldn’t hear it. She turned her attention to Colleen, who was standing almost perfectly still. “Have you seen anything…weird around?” she asked slowly. “Besides the box.”

“Not a thing,” Colleen said, shaking her head. “Why? Anything in particular you’re concerned about?”

“Uh…not really.” She was just noticing it now, but Colleen was speaking a bit…differently. Was it just her, or had her accent faded? “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Colleen asked politely.

“I…exactly. I don’t hear anything.” Stacy paused. “Wait a second.” She tilted her head. There were faint strains of…was that music? Where was it coming from? She tightened her hold on the gun as she tried to find the source of it, turning around. She stopped turning once she realized it…was it coming from Colleen? Stacy froze.

Colleen tilted her head. “Is something wrong, Stacy?”

“Um…so, h-how’d you know that this box was related to me?” Stacy asked slowly.

“Oh, I had a feeling,” Colleen said dismissively. “Misery has this feel to it, you understand?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What did you say?” she asked breathlessly.

“You heard me.”

 _Misery loves company._ That was what the thing in the red hood had said. And there was something about the way it was said…and the way Colleen said it now…Stacy stepped back and squinted at Colleen. No, it was definitely her. Her appearance wasn’t fading, details turning to vague impressions of a face like Jaqueline’s had. But she wasn’t acting normal either. Standing too stiff. Stacy took another step back.

“You’re looking a bit nervous, Stacy,” Colleen took a step forward. “Maybe you should calm down. Take a break.”

Stacy started to raise her gun, but stopped halfway through. This still was Colleen, wasn’t it? She couldn’t shoot her. 

As if she knew this, Colleen smiled. “No need to be harsh. After all, doesn’t she have a kid? A gunshot would put her ability to provide for him at risk.”

Stacy took a few more steps back, chills running down her spine as she managed to point the gun. But still, she couldn’t do it.

Something glinted in the street light. Stacy’s eyes darted towards it, looking for it again. She couldn’t quite grasp it, but it was hovering above Colleen. What was it? Her mind went to some sort of thread, but that was impossible. Except that…it certainly appeared to be some sort of string, rising up into the air, heading toward the street lantern above her head.

Another set of chills ran down her skin. With trepidation, she looked up.

Her eyes widened as she tried to scream, but no sound came out.

* * *

The Iontachs didn’t have much in the way of computer tech. Mathew figured John would like that; he seemed to have a thing about that. But it meant that the only place Mathew could watch YouTube was on the clunky desktop in the office. He sat in the tall desk chair and kicked his feet, headphones plugged into the speakers as he looked for a new let’s play to watch.

The door opened, and Mathew jumped and spun around. Stacy was peeking into the room. “Uh, hi Mom,” he said.

“Hey Mathew,” she said cheerfully. “Do you know where your brother is?”

“Uh…isn’t he still in bed?” Larkin wasn’t really the type to try and stay up late. Though maybe that would change when he got older.

“Ohhh.” Stacy nodded. “That would make sense.” She backed up, then reappeared in the doorway. “While I go get him, do you mind going out to the car?”

Mathew slowly unplugged his headphones. “Um. Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Stacy sighed. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to. You know why, yes?” She paused meaningfully. “Anyway, get ready and go on out. I’ll be there soon with your brother.” She backed up and disappeared for good.

Mathew slung his headphones around his neck and pushed the desk chair backwards. He grabbed his phone and charger from where it was plugged into the walk, checking to see if it was full. It was, so he put it and the cord into his hoodie pocket. He swiveled around, ready to stand up. And then he didn’t. His heart had sped up, stomach starting to squirm. What happened to cause this? Were those monsters back? He physically shuddered as an image of the thing in the red hood twisting its head into place flashed in his mind. If that was the case, they’d better hurry.

He went right out to the car, climbing into the back seat of the unlocked van. Staring out the window at the rainy street, his eyes wandered over to the alley that would lead around the back of the house. Was John going to come with them? He did the last two times. But then again, he wasn’t really involved with this, was he? Well, a little bit. He did save them from the thing in the last city. But the thing hadn’t been…after him. So maybe there was no reason for him to come with. Still, Mathew thought John was kind of cool…you know, for an adult.

The door opened again, and Stacy placed a sleeping Larkin, wearing pajamas borrowed from Nick, in the other seat. “There we are. Oh, we need the buckle, don’t we?” She slid the seatbelt across him.

“You didn’t wake him up?” Mathew asked.

“No no, let’s let him sleep.” Stacy closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat, quickly climbing in and starting the car. “And here we go.”

The van rolled down the dark streets of the city, tracing the same route it had taken on the way into town two weeks ago. Mathew stared idly out the window as they passed beyond the town limits and up into the forest. Mist curled across the ground, forming strange shapes. He shifted uneasily. This place was freaky. Wasn’t fog supposed to disappear after rain? Maybe he was getting that wrong. In any case, this just felt weird. He glanced over at Larkin, still fast asleep. Quietly, he leaned over and shook his shoulder gently.

After a bit of this, Larkin stirred. He blinked open his eyes and looked around, obvious confusion causing his face to scrunch up. “Mat,” he whispered, leaning closer. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I don’t know,” Mathew whispered back. “Mom said that we had to leave and we all got in the car and drove away.”

“Aw.” Larkin’s face fell. “What happened?”

“Dunno.” Mathew shrugged. “Ask Mom.”

Larkin leaned around the seat of the car to look at Stacy in the driver’s seat. She didn’t look back at him, eyes fixed on the road. Larkin’s eyes widened a bit, and he scooted a bit closer to Mathew. “We should get out of the car,” he whispered.

“What? Why?” Mathew asked.

“Mom’s being…weird,” Larkin said, glancing back over at her.

“You’re weird,” Mathew muttered.

“No you.”

The two of them straightened. Mathew looked out the window again. Okay, if they wanted to get out of the car, then obviously they needed it to stop first. He got an idea. Doubling over, he groaned and clutched his stomach. “Mooom, I think I’m getting carsick.”

Stacy didn’t even look at him.

“Mom?” Mathew leaned forward. “Mom, I’m gonna throw up.”

Still no response. A sudden chill ran down Mathew’s spine. He looked over at Larkin in a silent plea for help. Larkin thought about it. Then he unbuckled his seat belt, stood up, and screamed right into Stacy’s ear. Yet she didn’t even flinch.

“Shit,” Mathew said under his breath.

“Don’t say that, it’s a bad word,” Larkin said automatically, then moved on. “What d’we do?”

Mathew glanced out the window again, then turned his attention to the door itself. It wasn’t locked…and Mathew knew that their van didn’t have a child lock…if it was necessary, he could technically…

Deciding it was necessary, Mathew undid his seatbelt, pushed the car door open, and jumped out.

Luckily, the car wasn’t going too fast. But he still fell hard, skin scraping on the cracked asphalt and bruising his bones on the ground as he tumbled for a good while. Eventually he lost momentum, staring up at the branches overhead and trying to get his breath. “Owww…” he groaned. Well, he would never be doing that again.

He sat up, and looked down the road, seeing the red tail lights of the car even through the mist. Those lights were moving farther away, but then they stopped. The car started to back up, but then one of the doors opened and Larkin darted out, running farther into the forest. The car braked suddenly, and Stacy jumped out. “Get back here!” she shrieked, running after Larkin. Mathew watched this happen, feeling a bit disconnected to the situation. It was like something from a movie, or a cutscene from a game. Not quite real.

And then he saw a shadow move. His eyes naturally glanced toward it—up toward it. He let out a soft gasp as he realized the shadow was on top of the car. Had it been there the whole time?!

The shadow stopped, and he had the sudden feeling it was looking at him. Mathew scrambled to his feet and ran, heading deeper into the woods.

Dark trees passed by him, almost indistinguishable from the shadows coating the forest floor. Mathew tripped over roots and undergrowth that was invisible beneath the white mist. Branches caught on his hoodie, but he kept running, heart pounding. What was happening?! What was wrong with his mom?! What was up with that shadow? 

After a while, he realized he had no idea where he was, and he slowed to a stop. Panting, he tried to look for anything distinguishable, but everything was darkness and trees and mist. His mind immediately went to wolves and bears in the woods. He’d have no idea they were coming. And then he remembered that shadow, and the things he’d heard in town about the forest, and his stomach started to sink. What was he doing out here? What was he thinking?

And then the image of Larkin running in the other direction returned to him, and he felt a sudden blast of cold fear seep into his bones. He’d left Larkin in these woods. Alone, with who knows what else here. Immediately, he turned around, pivoting on his feet to try and keep track of where he was, and headed back. Eventually he’d reach the road, right?

No, apparently not.

He’d been stumbling in the dark, trying to keep a straight line for what felt like twenty minutes, and he finally had to conclude that he was lost. Frustrated, he punched the nearest tree, then cried out. This was the worst. It was an actual nightmare. He hurt all over from jumping out of the car, he was lost in a strange forest, his mom was acting weird and scary, and Larkin was somewhere out there alone. Tears started to choke his throat. He wiped his eyes.

“Are you lost?”

Mathew cried out, flailing for a moment before pressing his back to the tree he’d punched. He looked around, eyes straining to see anything. The only thing that was really visible in the pitch-black forest was the fog…which was actually a little strange. His vision traced the patterns in the mist, watching it swirl. It seemed to be swirling around a particular spot. No…there was something there that it was spinning around.

“You look a little lost.”

Mathew jumped again. The voice was coming from the thing in the middle of the swirling mist. He looked up, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. If he had to guess, it looked like a person. It was vaguely shaped that way, at least. “Um…maybe?” he said, voice small.

“You’re just a child. What are you doing in the woods?” The person-shaped shadow walked closer, looking like it was gliding across the ground.

“Uh…I’m…my mom…” Mathew tilted his head back to look at the shadow’s face. That head wasn’t exactly person-shaped. It looked more like an animal…but it might’ve been a mask. “She, uh…drove us out here, and, uh…”

“‘Us’?” The shadow prompted.

“My brother and me,” Mathew said. Was it weird that he wasn’t freaking out? He was a bit on edge, but shouldn’t he be panicking more? “He…ran the other way, I’m—”

“You’re looking for your brother.” The shadow flashed a smile. No, it had been smiling the whole time. “I can help you find him, if you’d like.”

Mathew hesitated. Little alarm bells were going off in his head, and he could practically hear his mom and dad’s voices reminding him to never go anywhere with a stranger. “I don’t need help. But, uh, if you were to say where he is out loud, I, um…wouldn’t stop you.”

“Hmm?” The shadow tilted its head. “I think you do need help.”

“No, I-I’m fine,” Mathew said, voice cracking. He started to edge around the tree. “I’m going to, uh, go now.” And he pushed away, quickly walking in the other direction. The hairs on the back of his neck told him the shadow was following him.

“It’s very dark out, isn’t it?” The mist was swirling faster, rising from around Mathew’s knees to around his hips.

“Uh…yeah,” Mathew said.

“And you’re going in the wrong direction. Your brother went north.”

Mathew stopped walking. “How do you know that?”

Something grabbed the back of his hoodie and started pulling. “We should head this way.”

“H-hey!” Mathew squirmed, reaching back to try and loosen the grip. But his hands felt nothing but the mist. “Let go!”

“Why?”

“I don’t—I don’t want to be pulled!”

“You want to find your brother, though.”

“Yes, but don’t—I’ll just follow you, okay? Let go!”

“Sounds perfect.” The thing let go of him, and he whirled around to see it standing very close, looking down at him and grinning. The mist was barely moving now, dropping down to hover around his knees. “Come on. This way.” The person-shaped thing turned and headed to the left, leaving the mist agitated in its wake. Mathew hesitated. He took a single step in the other direction, but the mist rose into the air, tendrils reaching out. It felt like it shoved him away. Mathew gasped gently, then hurried to follow the thing. Clearly there wasn’t much of an option here.

The forest was oddly quiet. He could hear his footsteps, rustling the undergrowth. But nothing else. And he couldn’t see anything either. “Um…is there any way there could be…light?” he asked tentatively. Maybe asking the strange forest creature questions was a bad idea, but he was tired of stumbling around.

“You tend to carry lights in your pockets now.” Luckily, the thing didn’t seem to mind.

“What? Oh.” Mathew reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his phone, switching on the flashlight. A circle of white light lit up the forest, bouncing off the mist. He scanned the nearby surroundings, and—

“Aaak!” He jumped back, fumbling to keep hold of his phone. Once it was securely in his grasp, he pressed a hand to his chest to try and calm down. “Mom?!”

Stacy looked a bit of a mess, a few stray leaves in her hair and dirt on her coat like she’d fallen down. And there seemed to be the faint sound of…music coming from nearby. Staticky, tinny music, like it was on an old record. Instead of acknowledging her son at all, she looked at the shadow with wide eyes. “I’ve lost the smaller one.”

“Really?” Though the thing didn’t stop grinning, it sounded a bit disappointed.

“She isn’t fast!” Stacy protested. “Or at least not faster than the smaller one!”

“You should’ve dropped her and grabbed him yourself.”

“What’s done is done,” Stacy said dismissively. “Where did he go?”

“This way,” the shadow said, a bit smugly.

“What’s going on?!” Mathew asked, voice rising. He tried to point the flashlight beam at the shadow, but barely caught the edge of something—fabric or fur or more mist, he couldn’t tell—before it started off in another direction. “Mom? What’s happening? Where’s Larkin?”

Stacy didn’t answer him, following after the shadow. Mathew stared after her. Tears started to well in his eyes, and he blinked them away. This was not his mom. But he still followed after her, hoping that if they found Larkin, he’d be able to…he didn’t know exactly what. Do something.

They walked for a few minutes more. Mathew kept scanning the forest with his flashlight, lighting up the mist around them. The strange music seemed to now be coming from all around, a bit louder now. Until suddenly, the shadow stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Stacy asked.

“I was too focused on the boy,” the shadow said, its voice low. “I didn’t notice it.”

“Notice what?” Stacy said impatiently.

“Uh, it’s probably talking about me,” a familiar voice said. Mathew gasped, and spun around. His flashlight beam landed on two figures, one taller and one small. “Oh jesus, be careful with that,” John said, blinking in the sudden light. “You could blind someone.”

“John? What’re you doing here?” Mathew asked. He tilted his light down a bit, now looking at the smaller figure standing half-behind the man. “Hey, Lark.”

“Hi Mat,” Larkin said, waving a bit. He glanced at Stacy and the person-shaped shadow, and shrank back a bit.

“ _You shouldn’t be here,_ ” the shadow hissed.

“Yet here I am,” John said casually. “Anyway, Mathew, I’m here because I noticed your mom leaving for some reason. Then coming back and grabbing you two, without saying anything to anyone. Not like her, y’know? Then I noticed the reason for such out-of-character behavior.” He glanced over at Stacy, then moved his attention upwards, into the branches of the trees above her. “You shouldn’t be here either. Isn’t Forest Guardian here supposed to be, like, super territorial?”

“There are exceptions to every rule,” Stacy said plainly.

“Get out,” the shadow snarled, still glaring at John.

“Fucking make me, why don’t you?!” John snapped. “Go ahead. Throw me out of here with your freaky fog.” He waved at the nearby mist, which twisted out of the way. It was like it didn’t want to touch him. No, it definitely didn’t want to touch him. There was a small circle of clear area around him, free of mist. Larkin was standing barely inside the clearing, holding onto John’s jacket like it was a lifeline. “No, you can’t. Cause you’re _afraid_. That’s the one fucking perk I get with this, and you can bet your ass I’m gonna use it. If you have one.” He laughed, then looked back over at Mathew. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice softer.

“Uh…yeah,” Mathew said. “Just…confused. And freaked out.”

“You jumped out of a car,” Larkin reminded him.

“I mean, yeah, but I got better—” 

Stacy growled, and lunged forward, grabbing Mathew by the arm. He yelped, and tried to push her away, but her grip was iron. “We can just get the two of them, right?” she said in a suddenly raspy voice.

“It wants all three,” the shadow said.

“Can’t we grab the smaller one after dropping off these two?”

“Oh my god, this is still to do with the thing in the house, isn’t it?!” John kicked the ground. “Jesus! How far is it gonna follow her? Is it even really worth it at that point?”

“Oh, you would know, wouldn’t you?” the shadow drawled. 

“Let go!” Mathew screeched, now slapping Stacy’s arm with his free hand. He tried kicking her shin, but Stacy might as well have been a statue. “Mom! What’s wrong with you?! You’re—you’re scaring me!”

Stacy blinked. Something in her eyes seemed to flicker, and her grip loosened. Just a bit, but Mathew managed to pull away, falling onto the ground. He was already running before he even got to his feet, and soon was standing next to Larkin and John. Larkin immediately switched to clinging to him.

“What was that?!” The shadow hissed, now looking into the branches above Stacy’s head.

“Some strong emotion,” Stacy said in a strangled voice. She was shaking slightly. The still-playing music was slower, a bit distorted. “I have it under control now.”

John stepped out in front of the two younger boys. “No, no, we’re not doing this. You don’t have anyone under control. You’re going to let her go and they’re going to leave here all fine and happy.”

“Or what?” The shadow asked. The mist rose, reaching Larkin’s shoulders and Mathew’s waist. It spun in hypnotizing, agitated patterns. The music distorted further, now sounding hellish.

John hesitated, and said nothing. Mathew looked between him and Stacy. There had to be something they could do about this. Why was his mom acting like this? And why was everyone talking to the tree branches? Was there something up there? Curious, Mathew raised his phone, pointing the flashlight into the branches above Stacy’s head. “Holy shit!” He gasped, nearly dropping the phone.

It looked like a person. Sort of. More like something made to look like a person. With strings dangling from limbs and spirals where eyes should be. It was crouched in the tree branches, and as the light shined on it, it scurried over to another tree, the strings tangling and untangling. Stacy walked with it, always standing beneath it.

John’s eyes widened, and he turned to the boys, pulling them close. “Okay, I got an idea,” he whispered. “But you two need to run when I say to, alright? Go straight that way, eventually you’ll hit the road. And watch out for the mist, okay?”

Larkin nodded, but Mathew just gaped. “What?”

“Just do it, okay?” John hissed, turning around to face the shadow and Stacy. “Okay, so you’re hiding in the trees like a coward. Good to know.”

“Who said I was hiding?” Stacy hissed.

“Oh yeah, also you’re using someone else’s voice. Real brave there.”

The shadow snarled. “Not all of us are capable of the same feats, ĸø¹ŭ§. And not everything is as lucky as you are.”

“Yes, I’m very lucky,” John said darkly. “Which is why—run!”

Larkin caught on immediately, grabbing Mathew, still a bit confused, by the hand and running in the direction John had pointed earlier. Behind them they heard an animalistic scream, and the music rose in volume and speed. Mathew glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of John starting to climb a tree. Then he saw the shadow looking after them and he faced front again, picking up the pace.

Around them, the mist rose and thickened, covering both their heads. Breathing became difficult, like trying to breathe with your face buried in a pillow. They tripped over unseen obstacles on the forest floor, tree trunks coming out of nowhere to block their progress. Mathew gripped Larkin’s hand tight. They were still going straight, weren’t they? It was hard to tell. It felt like something was grabbing them—like there were hands in the mist, made of the mist, snatching at their clothes and yanking them off course. But the music was growing quieter, more distant. So they had to be making progress.

Suddenly, Mathew felt the forest floor beneath his feet turn to hard asphalt. The grip of the mist lessened, becoming a little less thick, though tendrils still wrapped around them to pull them back.

“Okay, the car has to be here somewhere, right?” Mathew panted.

“Look!” Larkin pointed to their right. Two yellowish lights were barely visible through the fog.

“Great, let’s go.” The two of them stumbled through the mist until the front of the van was visible. Mathew put his phone back in his pocket and put his hand on the car, walking around the side. “Here we are, front seat,” he muttered, pulling open the door to the passenger’s seat. “In you go.”

“Larkins first,” Larkin said cheerfully.

“It’s ‘ladies first,’ actually. I didn’t know you were a lady.”

“I could be. I’d be a very pretty lady.” Larkin hopped into the car and climbed over the seat into the back. “You wouldn’t be. You’d be too sad and weird.”

“Well you’d be too tiny and weird,” Mathew started climbing in as well. “Though I guess—” Something grabbed his ankle and he screamed. He looked behind him, but saw nothing except more mist, spinning and twisting. The thing around his ankle started pulling, and he grabbed the edge of the seat to brace himself. But it was persistent. He shook his leg and tried to pull himself in. Larkin gasped, and grabbed his arm, helping to pull him inside. They made slow progress, but he felt more things wrapping around his legs. “Let go of me!” He yelled, kicking his legs. With one final yank, he tumbled inside, and immediately turned around to slam the door shut. 

“Oh my god,” Larkin whispered. “Are you okay, Mat?”

“Y-yeah, fine,” Mathew said, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his heartbeat. He looked out the car windows, seeing nothing but fog. “Um…now what?”

“Do we wait for John or Mom?” Larkin asked.

“I…I guess so.” Mathew paused. “Oh, she left her keys in the car.”

“Mat, you can’t drive,” Larkin said, poking him.

“I can in, like, two years.”

“But we’re not in two years, we’re now.”

“Look, all I’m saying is I could probably figure it out in an emergency.”

The two of them fell silent, looking at the mist outside the car. Minutes passed. “Poor faces,” Larkin muttered.

“What are you talking about?” Mathew asked, looking at him.

“The faces in the fog. I mean, sometimes there’s hands too. But mostly faces.” Larkin pointed out the window, tapping the glass.

Mathew squinted. Then he gasped. There _were_ vague faces in there, appearing in swirls then melting back into the fog. “Oh god. It’s like soul sand. That’s creepy.”

“No, it’s sad,” Larkin insisted. “Cause the demon with the cat face probably put them there.”

“Uh…yeah, probably.” Staring out at the mist, Mathew sat straight up. “Wait a second. There’s…there’s something there,” he whispered. Something was moving the mist around, disturbing it and causing tendrils to move about. “Hang on.” Mathew started looking through the car, pulling open the glove box. There had to be something to use as a weapon, didn’t there? Something heavy, or—

A hand pressed against the driver’s side window, another one waving away the fog. Mathew jumped. Stacy’s face slowly came into view, pressing against the glass. Her eyes widened as she saw Mathew and Larkin inside, both huddled as far away from her as possible. She raised her hands, gave a smile, and slowly opened the driver’s door and slid inside. “Um…hey, pumpkins,” she said softly.

“Mom?” Mathew asked, voice squeaking.

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s…I’m so sorry.” Stacy covered her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t mean—that wasn’t me, I would never ever do anything like—I didn’t want to scare you, I—”

Mathew stared at her. Was his mom…crying? Well, he supposed that wasn’t too odd. She cried when the news about their dad came in, and many times after that, staying up late at night with a bottle. She never wanted either of them to see it. “Mom…” he said slowly. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t your fault,” Larkin said, slowly scooting closer. “It was that freaky puppet thing.”

Stacy wiped at her eyes. “Thank, boys,” she whispered. “We…we should get out of here. I think the fog is getting even thicker.” And she reached down to start the car.

“What about John?” Mathew asked.

“He can handle himself,” Stacy said patiently. She glanced out the side window. “Those things won’t bother him. But they will bother us.”

The car rolled forward. Stacy gripped the steering wheel tight, eyes wide and staring out the front. They weren’t going that fast, but for the limited visibility, it was as quick as they could go without worrying about running off the road.

It felt like forever before they finally broke out of the thick fog. As soon as they were clear, Stacy hit the gas, and the van shot forward. Mathew and Larkin glanced at each other, then quickly put their seatbelts on. “Mom,” Mathew finally said. “This is…this is because of the ghost thing from the house, right?”

Stacy didn’t answer for a bit. Then she nodded. “Yes, I think it is.” She laughed drily. “I guess they all know each other, or something.” She paused. “Don’t worry. We’re…we’re going to go farther away this time. It’ll be fine.”

“Mom,” Mathew said. “Don’t…”

The silence filled the car for a moment. “Don’t what, Mat?” Stacy asked.

Mathew let out a long breath. “Don’t…do that again.”

She smiled sadly. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

* * *

Two days later, a mom and her two kids were standing on the deck of a ferry, watching the gray clouds overhead. Stacy sighed. She would’ve preferred to fly back home, back to the town they’d lived in before they knew anything about things in houses or forests. Bad memories be damned. But her savings were quickly running dry, and the flight over an entire ocean would’ve cost a lot more. “You two doing okay?” she asked.

Mathew had his headphones on, listening to music on his phone. He nodded. Larkin was in the process of sitting down and poking his head through the railings to look down at the water below, giving a quick thumbs-up. Both of them were wearing new outfits she’d bought at the last town.

“Good, good.” Stacy sighed, looking back at land. It was slowly shrinking into the distance. She folded her arms, feeling the handle of her gun hidden beneath her coat. “We’re all…good.” They all went silent and watched the shore fade away.


	21. The Haunted

There was a face in the mirror.

It almost looked like him. Almost. There were too many eyes. Too much blood. And it juddered and shivered, breaking into pieces like a video with bad connection. But it was real. No, it couldn’t be. As he stared at what should have been his reflection, this was all he could think. “You’re not real,” he whispered. “You’re _ not _ real.”

The face seemed to smile. His eyes remained locked with it.

It lunged forward, broken hand reaching through the class. He cried out and jumped backwards, covering his head. After a moment of tense anticipation, he lowered his arms and looked at the mirror. It was just him.

He exhaled slowly, and left the bathroom, hands shaking as he pushed the door open. He headed back towards the room he’d just left. There was a table in there, a table that wasn’t usually there but that he’d dragged in for today. On top of the table was a half-carved pumpkin and a few knives. In front of this setup was a camera on a tripod. He walked over to stand behind the table and smiled for the camera. “Sorry about that, that was just—actually let’s edit that out. Okay. Back to this. What you’re gonna want to do...”

* * *

His phone was vibrating violently; the sound of it clattering against his nightstand was enough to wake him up. Blearily, he blinked up at the ceiling, then turned his attention to the phone. It had stopped vibrating. He picked it up and saw a couple missed calls, as well as a text message from a friend asking him to call. So he dialed the number. “Hey what’s up?”

“Hey ŝĺňŦèŸ, were you planning on uploading a different video today?” his friend asked.

“Huh? What d’you mean?”

“I mean, I went to post the edited version of Pony Island, and there was already a video up.”

He sat up straight. “What? What was it?”

“Uh, it was something like ‘pumpkin carving unedited.’”

He threw aside his blankets and rushed to the computer, dropping his phone and not bothering to pick it up. Booting up the computer and going over to his channel, he saw a video with that exact title...except something was a little weird with the letters. The title read “pu̵m̶p̵kin c̸arv̕ing̛ u͡ne͟di͢ted.” Dread pooled in his stomach. He wasn’t going to upload that. He’d been planning to, but it hadn’t...worked out. The footage never even left the camera.

Uneasy, he clicked it. The video was over an hour long, and he watched it all. It really was unedited. Nothing was cut out. He watched with a sinking stomach as the version of him onscreen trailed off in the middle of a sentence, staring at the knife for a full minute. The part with the bleeding eye was included, when it just started leaking blood for no apparent reason. And all those morbid jokes, pretending the pumpkin was a person he was stabbing, and grinning hysterically right after that...it was all there. Up until the moment he said “I can’t do this” and turned the camera off. The reactions in the comments seemed...mixed. He read through them, his heart frozen. S ome wondered if this was a joke, some thought he was doing it for attention, some wanted to know if he was okay. They were all confused.

Quickly, he stood up and ran over to grab his phone. He turned on the camera and started recording a video. “Hey guys. So you, uh, probably noticed the weird footage that got uploaded today. I just want to say...that wasn’t me. I actually have no idea where it came from.” He stammered through a short explanation, finishing it off by saying he’ll be taking a month-or-two-long break from recording anything, for his own mental health. Then he quickly uploaded that.

He glanced towards his computer monitor, which was still turned on. As he looked, the screen suddenly dissolved into static, distorted noise coming through the speakers. There was a face in the white noise.

An hour later, he was out on the street, smashing his computer and all his recording equipment with a baseball bat he’d found in his closet.

* * *

Despite his hopes, he had to conclude that it was real. Something was there, something was watching him. It sent him strange texts every so often, the words a bunch of scrambled symbols with the occasional threat. He kept the phone, though. To keep in contact with his friends and family.

He got rid of the TV, though. It kept switching on, making those same distorted sounds. One day in a panic, he opened the window and threw it out, watching it shatter on the ground below.

People kept asking how he was. Despite his best attempts to resist, he couldn’t help but check social media every so often. Some of his viewers thought this was a game, a fun horror-based thing to celebrate the end of the spooky season. Some of them were genuinely concerned.

Friends and family called and texted him. Some asked if he wanted to “see someone.” He considered it, he really did. Maybe he was just losing it. Waking up in the middle of the night, staring at eyes in the ceiling? That certainly seemed as though it was in his head. But he knew it was real. Because nobody could have uploaded that footage.

He got another text one day. Ŗæ¬YouareÈñħ»źmineÓŶğÙ´ÛIwillěġİťämakeĨÅęţyouþÚÆómyéªŕîĳöÀ×í¸ĪºÎtoyðŦłĈForeverů¿ŭŪŉĺĂķ=)

He threw his phone on the floor until its screen shattered and its case was broken. Then he dropped the remains down the nearest sewer grate.

* * *

He saw the face in his nightmares. Usually they just involved those eyes, those strange green eyes, all staring at him. He’d dream he was trapped in a box, all of them staring at him as it filled up with a red liquid that tasted metallic. Or he’d dream he was running down a street, the eyes watching him from looming buildings, his feet getting stuck as something that screeched with static grew closer and closer. The nightmares with the face were the worst. Because then it could touch him. And he’d wake up, unable to move, panting heavily as those eyes stared at him from his bedroom walls.

The lights would flicker, and more often than not they would turn off completely. His landline kept ringing. At first he’d pick up the calls, hoping to hear familiar voices. But all it turned out to be was distorted, laughing static.

He couldn’t stay here. It knew he was here.

It was a lovely spring day when he packed a suitcase and a duffel bag and headed to the nearest bus stop out of town.

* * *

There was a face in the crowd.

He was sitting on the train platform, waiting for the next one to come. People passed by, rushing quickly about their business and not paying him a second glance. Busy, busy, busy. But out of the sea of faces, one was staring at him.

His breathing sped up. He couldn’t look away. He was frozen, watching the figure in the crowd. People walked around it, not even looking in its direction. Nobody saw the twitching, bleeding, shuddering figure except for him. It wasn’t moving. But when he blinked, it got closer. What was once too distant to make out clearly slowly approached until he could see the green scleras of its many eyes.

“Go away!” He shot to his feet, knocking over his suitcase. “Leave me alone already!” People around him stared. He didn’t blame them. If he saw a man screaming at nothing in a train station, he would stare too. “What will it take?! Leave me the fuck alone!”

Luckily the train came before it got too close. But he stared at the station until it passed into the distance.

* * *

“I’m sorry young man, but t’ere’s nothin’ I can do to help you.”

It was raining outside, and he was glad the old woman had opened the door to let him inside. He sat curled up in one of the chairs in the living room, listening to her. “There—there h-has to be some way,” he stuttered. “You don’t know...anything?”

“T’is isn’ a creature I’ve seen before,” she said. “And I’ve seen plenty in my time. The best ye can do is to continue t’is path you’re on.”

Running forever? Switching from country to country at random? Always looking over his shoulder for those eyes or that face to be behind him? He shuddered. “What about the one in the forest? There’s supposed to be something there, right?”

“You didn’ see in on your way through?”

“Um...I saw it from a distance, but it didn’t get close.”

The old woman shook her head. “T’hear it didn’ approach you...when ye were all alone and most vulnerable...it doesn’ want anyt’ing t’do with you.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “You may stay here for as long as you like.”

He nodded slowly, and stared out the window. Waiting for it to appear.

* * *

The hotel room wasn’t one of the better ones he’d stayed in in his life. If he had to guess, it was probably a two star. But it had a bed and a shower, and that was all that mattered.

The clerk greeted him with a half-hearted wave and a monotone voice: “Bienvenue à l'historique Hôtel de la Soie. Comment puis-je vous aider?”

He stared at him blankly. “Uh...I need a room. Um...une neht—une nuit?”

The clerk scoffed a bit under his breath. He jabbed a finger at a sign hanging on the wall with the prices for a stay. An unusual thing to have in a hotel, but it worked out. He handed a stack of ten-euro notes over to the clerk, who took only a brief moment to count all of it before handing him a key in return. He nodded, and headed upstairs.

Later that night, he lay down on the bed, on top of the blankets. There was a single window into the room. Though he was on the third floor, he kept staring at it, waiting for a face to appear. He didn’t know what time it was when he finally drifted, having unplugged the digital clock and shoved it in the closet. But fall asleep he did.

Only to jolt awake barely two hours later, hearing the slightest sound of static coming from the old television speakers. He sat up straight, staring at it. The screen flipped on, showing rows of colored bars.

Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten. He grabbed his duffel bag and ran out the door, not bothering to check out. He’d never be coming back here anyway.

* * *

“Please! I know you can help me! I know it!” He grabbed the back of the red hoodie, clinging to the fabric.

Hands grabbed his wrists and yanked him away. The creature looked very annoyed to be bothered, but in its featureless face, he could’ve sworn he saw fear as well. “I can’t,” it hissed. “Leave me alone.”

“I know you can,” he repeated bleakly. “I-I know you...you’re much older, right? I’m sure you can—can—”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you’re wrong,” it said bluntly. “Usually you would be right. Not in this case.”

He stared at it, letting a few tears slip from his eyes. “Please...”

It dropped his wrists and walked away. He didn’t bother to follow it, sinking to his knees, watching as the creature approached someone and started chatting away. They both ignored him. A desolate feeling overcame his heart. Not even things like this could help him...

“Hey signore! Stai bene?” A teenager nearby asked him.

He looked at her. The teen was with her friends, a group of kids, all hanging out together, unaware of...everything. Then he stood up and walked away silently.

* * *

He was a mess. He knew it before, but staring at his reflection in the shop window across the street really drove it home. Dirty, travel-worn clothes. Wild, greasy hair and an unkempt beard. He’d lost the suitcase long ago, and decided to trade the duffel bag for an easier-to-carry backpack he’d stolen two weeks ago...or was it a month ago? It was hard to keep track, days blurring into each other.

Running his hand through his hair, it occurred to him that he’d been trying to grow facial hair for years, and it took circumstances like this to make it actually fill out. The thought was so absurd that he couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

A woman and a little girl were walking down the sidewalk nearby, presumably a mother and daughter out for a stroll. The girl pointed at him, but her mother pulled her closer, and muttered, “To niegrzeczne wskazywać. Nie gap się na niego.” He had no idea what it meant, but noticed how they crossed the street soon after.

Well, whatever. That was the least of his worries.

He sat down, leaning back against the wall of the building behind him. A yawn escaped, and he closed his eyes. Even though it was the middle of the day, he was asleep within minutes.

When he awoke, it was close to sunset, and more people were milling about the pavement. He sat up straight, searching the area. Something had woken him up.

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw it watching him, its hand extended and only a few inches away from him.

With a scream, he threw himself backwards, scrambling to his feet. “Go away!” He shouted. “Fuck off!”

Its eyes smiled, leaking blood. “×ýńŃÙĸComečŌĆĺĤÓhereĿ¾ŚĀMineŬħĩ”

He broke out into a dead run, shoving past annoyed pedestrians who yelled at him as he passed. He didn’t care. They couldn’t help him.

* * *

Exhaustion dragged at his feet, making him stumble. He kept his eyes open, glancing over his shoulder. It had been a day since he last saw it. Was that long enough? He collapsed on the side of the road, landing in a bush. Its tiny branches scraped at his skin, but he didn’t feel them.

He woke up with static ringing in his ears. Pushing to his hands and knees, he looked behind him, and saw it.

A sob ripped free of his throat. He was running before he was even fully upright. Its laughter echoed behind him.

Judging by how much the sun had moved, it had only been about three hours since he fell asleep. How was it so fast? It never followed him when he ran, it just...appeared. Watching him. Waiting.

* * *

He’d stolen an egg timer from a small store he’d run across. The woman manning the cash register had run after him, shouting “Állj meg! Tolvaj!” but he was too fast. Still, the effort of running for so long tired him out, and he staggered and fell. Staying right where he was on the sidewalk, he set the timer for forty-five minutes, then lowered his head and fell asleep.

When the timer went off, ringing shrilly in his ear, he grabbed it and sat up, looking around.

It was right there. Standing over him.

He couldn’t find the energy to scream, instead making a hoarse, strangled cry as he climbed to his feet and took off. Forty-five minutes was too long. When he next fell down, two hours later just outside of the town, he set it for forty.

* * *

Halfway to the next town, he had to reduce the time to thirty minutes. He’d fallen asleep sometime in the night, when the moon was high overhead. And when he woke up to the sound of the timer ringing, he rolled over and stared into green eyes.

“¿ČþŢ¨Űŭċ©ŏżBreakŴÎŐĲÚ½ÏforËúĂŤmeóŉŎōĈĝÿ”

He shrieked and ran, adrenaline giving him a boost. It was so close,  _ so  _ close, and it still didn’t pursue. Was this a game for it? Was it playing with him? It must have been.

* * *

Fifteen minutes. He’d run for about forty minutes, then he couldn’t take it anymore, and had to fall asleep for fifteen minutes. People wandering through the town gave him strange looks, but he was long past the point of caring.

When he woke up this time, he felt something on his arm. He looked down and saw a hand, twitching, bleeding, staring. He shoved it away and tried to run. It kept laughing at him. He wasn’t nearly as fast as he used to be.

* * *

Five minutes. Run for fifteen, then sleep for five. Run for ten, then sleep for three. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, knowing something was watching him with an electric gaze.

Something tugged on the back of his jacket, and he jolted awake. He’d slept right through the timer. It was pulling him—! Struggling, he managed to pull away and stumble down the street. It wasn’t laughing anymore.

* * *

It grabbed his arm next time. He swung a wild punch and pulled backwards, setting off down the street. Static hissed. He didn’t know how long it was before he fell down. But soon he was lying on the sidewalk, staring at the yellow-lit windows of the city buildings. Next thing he knew, his eyes were opening to it grabbing his leg. A kick, and he was staggering down the street again.

* * *

His eyes flew open. It had grabbed his other arm. Gasping, tears leaking, he wriggled out of his jacket and ran. He made it down three city blocks before he absolutely couldn’t go any further. His legs refused to move, and he crumpled. Asleep before he hit the ground.

* * *

He woke up choking, his shirt collar tight around his neck. Gasping, pulling at the fabric, it took him a moment to realize he was being dragged across the ground, rough asphalt catching on his clothes. A cry escaped his throat, only to be strangled as the fabric was pulled tighter. He kicked wildly, hands grabbing at the shirt collar to try and loosen it. “Let me go!” He shouted hoarsely. His fingers scrabbled at the ground, trying to get a hold.

Static laced with laughter. As if the very idea was ridiculous.

He hadn’t really been expecting that to work, anyway. Reaching back with one hand, he tried to pry its fingers away, but kept slipping. So instead he tried to wriggle out of his shirt like he did with his jacket earlier. But it was wise to this trick now. It grabbed both his wrists, its grasp wiry but strong. And cold. Not cold like ice, cold like a cadaver. He shuddered to feel it, and tried all the harder to twist free.

There wasn’t anyone nearby. He doubted if anyone would answer, or if they could even see him, but he had to try. “Help!” He screamed. “Help! Someone, please! Help! Please!”

No response.

It dragged him to the edge of the city, indifferent to his screams and pleas. His skin was scraped, but if he could just get free, it would be worth it. If he could just run. He needed to run. He needed to—!

The air seemed to shiver, the world breaking into colors and shapes. He froze, the image hypnotizing and terrifying. It felt as though he suddenly jerked awake while falling asleep. When things righted themselves, the city was gone. Instead he was in the middle of nowhere. Twisted ground littered with broken electronics: monitors, CPUs, televisions, radios, and so many wires and cables. Static was so thick in the air, he could taste it. The sky above was black. No, deeper than black, it was a void. And there were... _ things  _ crawling over the piles of scrapped technology. They stared at him.  _ It _ stared at him.

No longer exhausted, he climbed to his feet and started to run once more. And it started to laugh. Laughed like it was the most hilarious joke, the kind of joke you’d hear a million times and never get tired of.

He brushed past a pile and suddenly tripped. Wires wrapped around his legs, climbed up his body to his neck. He tasted copper deep in his throat.

And then it left. He was alone. But a voice lingered in the air.

“şøëĬÕÆßĺóŸŖYouareÓĆð¬ÞmineŀĽĶ¤ĵ¿nowįýâźÉÇĖïŉéąAndďļćÐŏÒĎŧYouwillŰæŒĞĢŃmakeÑıàĂĀŷťªŕawonderŤÊŠ÷ĕŋfulİåŅž«©¶ăšplayőĤ¦Ŵthing·ÏāĔ®öÀĈ°ŗè”


	22. Thrall

The sun has set, and the tall buildings cast deep shadows on the streets below, shadows that are only broken by pools of yellow streetlamp light. In a busy city like this, there should be bustling pedestrians even this late at night, but instead, there are only two in the dead empty street. A pair of young men—or one of them is closer to a boy, really—who look alike enough to be related. The younger, shorter one has glasses and is wearing a simple white T-shirt. The older, taller one is wearing a black hoodie and carrying a cardboard box.

“We should not be out this late,” the younger one mutters, eyes darting about, lingering on the shadows.

“Well, there wasn’t much of a choice, if we wanted to get this done by tomorrow,” the older one replies. He makes sure to keep a tight grip on the box. “It’s not my fault the car didn’t start.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Shut up, Kas.”

Kas huffs, but it’s only to cover up his nerves. “We could have asked Ma—”

“No, I am _not_ calling our parents. They would murder me for breaking the car.”

“So it _was_ your fault.”

“Wh—no, I said shut up!” The older one splutters. “It’s not that far a walk, anyway. Leave it alone.”

The two walk in silence for a few moments, their footsteps echoing on the sidewalk, loud in the strangely silent city. Kas’s head is on a swivel, darting about side to side. As they walk, he inches closer to the older one. Then suddenly, he grabs his arm. The older one yelps. “Kaspar, what the fuck?!”

“I saw something, Dirk,” Kaspar insists in a whisper. “Something moving. You know we shouldn’t go out at night. This isn’t worth dying over.” He starts to pull on Dirk’s arm. “We can just go over to the nearest building and call Mama from in there.”

“We’re not going to die.” Dirk shrugs off Kaspar’s grip. “We are ten minutes from home, what could possibly be out here to kill us?”

Kaspar looks at him with wide eyes. “You know what.”

Dirk hesitates, then scoffs. “That’s just an urban legend. People made it up to connect some unsolved cases. Cases that didn’t relate to each other in anything other than surface details.”

“Tell that to Marlene’s cousin who got torn to shreds.”

There’s a lengthy pause. Dirk looks more uneasy at the reminder, but he keeps up his bravado. “We are ten minutes from home,” he repeats. “And the two of us are together. Nothing’s going to happen to the two of us in such a short period of time. Now let’s hurry.” He picks up the pace, leaving Kaspar to catch up.

They reach an intersection. Only about a minute passes before Kaspar gasps and grabs Dirk’s arm again. Dirk jumps and shakes him off. “Kas, seriously, we’re fine.”

“There was _definitely_ something moving.” Kaspar doesn’t walk, frozen in place. He stares down the street branching off to the left.

“Oh my—it’s probably just a lost cat.” Dirk squares his shoulders and marches off in the direction Kaspar is staring. “If we see it, then you will calm down.”

“Dirk!”

Dirk doesn’t look back. Though he’s confidently heading off, his grip on the box is tight and nervous. His eyes are locked forward, scanning for any movement. Then he suddenly stops. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Kaspar stops too. “Are you…talking about my footsteps?”

“No, it was something else.” The two fall quiet. After a moment, there’s a strange sound. Like a cat or dog skittering across the ground, but more…metallic. Like dropping a bunch of metal parts on the sidewalk. In unison, they turn towards the sound. Dirk gasps. “Something _did_ move.”

“Fucking—I told you!” Kaspar backs away.

“Hey, it wasn’t big. I still think it must be a cat, not much larger than that.” Still, Dirk pauses for an abnormal amount of time before walking towards the movement. Kaspar reluctantly follows.

There’s another movement, coming from a nearby alley between buildings. Dirk’s head snaps towards it, and he cautiously approaches. Poking his head inside, he first feels relief. “See, I was right, it was just…a…” He trails off, eyes widening as he steps back.

“What? What is it?” Kaspar steps up next to him, only to have the same reaction as the horror dawns on him. 

The impression of a cat hadn’t come out of nowhere. The thing has four legs and is roughly the size of one. But the resemblance ends there. The “legs” are spindly, made of metal, but the rest of the body is…alive. Red muscle in the vague form of a patched-together body and head, piled on top of bones and metal plates. Wires burst from the sides, dripping blood. There are two green eyes in the “head,” one firmly in a metal socket and one dangling from an optic nerve. 

The creature wobbles on its thin legs. The eye in the head rolls, and the dangling one bounces with every step. Red splatters on the concrete, but almost instantly dried to brown stains.

The two are frozen, too shocked to move or say anything else. Then Dirk screams. 

The creature suddenly snaps to attention, both eyes locking onto the two young men. In a flash, it runs towards them, moving faster than it should have been able to. Dirk drops the box he’s holding, but can’t move beyond that. Kaspar grabs him by the arms and pulls as he sprints in the other direction. Dirk stumbles, but quickly catches on. The sound of metal legs scrabbling against concrete pursues them out of the alley and down the street. Neither of them turn to look, hearts pounding as their instincts screamed at them to get away from this unnatural creature.

There’s a strange squishing noise behind them, and the scrabbling stops.

Even after hearing that, they continue to run until they’re able to round a corner, at which point they both stop, panting heavily. Kaspar leans heavily against Dirk, who leans heavily against the nearest wall. After catching his breath, Dirk hisses out, “What the _fuck_ was that?!”

“I-I-I don’t know,” Kaspar spluttered. “I don’t—don’t know.” He peeks back around the corner of the building in an extremely reluctant manner. “It’s…not there anymore.”

Dirk also peers around the corner. “No…it’s there.” He points.

After a few seconds of making sure the creature wasn’t still moving, the two step out from behind the building. Surprisingly, Kaspar is the first one to approach the creature lying on the sidewalk. It’s twitching faintly, legs collapsed and its own dangling eye trapped under its body. There’s a long, sharp length of metal going straight through its body and pinning it to the ground. “What is that…thing that stabbed it?” Kaspar asks slowly.

“Ah…I think that’s an amputation knife,” Dirk says.

“What?!”

“They used to use them in battles, where there wasn’t proper medical care available,” Dirk explains.

“…how do you know that?” Kaspar asks, stunned.

“Wikipedia thread searching.”

“And you can recognize it on sight.”

“Shut up.”

The banter is just a cover for how unnerved they really are. Neither of them can look away from the creature as it persistently wiggles under the blade. “Should we…go back to get the box?” Kaspar asks after a while. He edges slowly around the creature, giving it a wide berth.

“Fuck the box! Hey, get back over here.” Dirk similarly circles around to the other side of the creature. It tries to twist its head to follow him, but can’t quite make it. “You were right, I was an idiot. L-let’s just—just go back hom—”

Neither of them heard the fast approaching footsteps before they suddenly each felt a sharp pain in their necks. In almost comical unison, they gasp and fall over as they suddenly lose balance. Only a few seconds of fuzzy vision later, blackness overcomes both of them.

The next morning, the first early passerbys find the two still unconscious on the sidewalk. It’s strange—not necessarily finding two bodies on the street, but seeing them move again. Dirk wakes up first, blinking in confusion at the early morning light and the group of people gathered around him.

“Oh, you are awake,” a man says, surprised. “Ah…are you feeling okay?”

“I’m…fine,” Dirk says slowly, looking around.

“Mama, can you really take naps in the street?” a young girl asks her mother.

“Do you know what happened?” A teenager asks.

“I can drive you to the hospital,” an older woman offers.

What…did happen? Is anything that he remembers from last night even real? Or was it just him imagining it? He glances around again, noticing Kaspar, who was starting to wake up. Another glance around, and then he notices it. There’s a spot on the sidewalk that looks like it was stabbed, surrounded by a reddish brown smear. Dirk’s eyes widen, then he immediately look away. “Actually, I am feeling a little fuzzy.”

Kaspar wakes up with a groan, opening his eyes to squint through his glasses. “Dirk?” he asks weakly. “What…happened?”

“Well…I’m not sure,” Dirk says slowly.

Kaspar stares at him, then around at the bystanders, and nods. “Right. I’m not sure either.”

Even in a town as strange as Achmatze, the city where people disappeared when the sun went down, they knew to keep this to themselves. After all, who would believe them?

If either of them had bothered to look behind them that night, they would have noticed that one of the alleyways didn’t actually lead to the other side of the street. Rather, it connected to a long hallway, rooms and corridors branching and twisting off and creating a maze of white, stained walls. Luckily, they didn’t see anything. Otherwise they might not have been found the next morning. Or at least, they might not have been found alive.

The alleyway is just a normal alley this morning, the entrance to the strange corridors having disappeared. But they’re still out there. The hallways branch off of the world and extend into the blank space next to it.

And deep inside the hallways, there is a room, locked with a steel door. The room is filled with steel cages, one of which holds the creature from the night before, skittering and emitting a low electric whine. And it’s not alone. Other creatures, similarly made of flesh and metal, pace inside the other cages. They range from cat-sized to almost horse-sized. The bigger they are, the more green eyes dot their bodies.

The room is locked and barred with a metal slab. Until this night, the door had been long neglected. The thing living in the hallways did not want to go inside unless necessary. But hopefully, this was just an isolated incident. Hopefully, _it_ was not turning its attention here once again.


	23. Overnight Observation - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this part does have a bit of gore in it. It's really only one scene, and I think I kept it mild in my descriptions, but read with caution anyway.

The world beyond the train windows was dark. It had been nothing but fields for a good while, but now buildings were starting to dot the landscape again, quickly gathering together. Soon they would be in the suburbs, then in a city. Meanwhile, the inside of the train was brightly lit, artificial white light chasing away all the shadows. There were passengers, not enough to cause a crowd but still enough to fill the train. Among these passengers were a young mom wearing a backpack and her two children, all looking tired and travel-worn.

Stacy stared out at the gathering buildings. Occasionally she managed to glimpse a street sign, but couldn’t read the language. Fighting back a yawn, she looked over at Mathew and Larkin, sitting in the seat across from her. Mathew had his head pressed against the window, eyes fixed on the outside. Larkin was leaning on his shoulder, fast asleep. They’d been travelling for a while now. Where were they going? She didn’t exactly know.

There was a slight whooshing sound as the door between train cars slid open. Stacy glanced towards it, just in time for the man who’d just entered to sit down on the seat next to her. Tensing slightly, she turned away. Maybe they shouldn’t have chosen the seats closest to the car door.

“Verzeihung, Fräulein,” the man said. “Können Sie mir sagen, was die nächste Station ist?”

Stacy glanced over at him. There was nothing strange about him at first glance. He wore a dark gray suit and carried a briefcase, his dark hair slicked back and his face unshaven. Surely anyone else wouldn’t have been suspicious. But after everything, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.

“Fräulein? Hast du mich gehört?” The man asked.

Maybe he’d go away if she answered. Stacy took out her phone and opened up the new app she’d downloaded, an English-German dictionary. She’d been trying to learn the language, but wasn’t making a lot of progress. At most, she could identify question words and things like occupations and body parts. You know, things they’d teach in a high school elective. But she plugged in what she thought she heard the man ask.

“Parlez-vous français?” The man continued. “¿O quizás hablas español? O italiano? Or English?”

“English, yes,” Stacy said quietly.

“Ah, English. So sorry.” The man smiled charmingly. “I was wondering if you knew the next stop for the train.”

“Um…it’s a city called Achmatze,” Stacy said slowly.

“Ah, perfect, thank you.” The man nodded. “You are American?”

“Yes.”

The man paused, as if waiting for a more in-depth response. “Well…what has brought you here? A vacation, perhaps? With your children?”

“Yes.”

He frowned. “So…are you passing through or stopping here?”

“Through.”

The man stared at her. She stared back. His eyes…was it just her being paranoid, or were they an odd color? She was suddenly very aware of the holster and handgun hidden beneath her jacket. Eventually, the man turned away. “You are a very special young lady,” he said under his breath.

Stacy didn’t respond, turning her attention back out the window. They were now solidly surrounded by buildings, and the train had slowed down considerably.

A few minutes later, it slowed to a stop, pulling into a station. The intercom announced this stop as the city of Achmatze. The man in the gray suit stood up and disappeared through the doors of the train car. Once he was gone, Stacy leaned over and began shaking Larkin. “Hey, Lark. Wake up, pumpkin.”

“Hmmm whha?” Larkin blinked, and stretched. “Wha’s it, Mom?”

“We’re going to get off here,” Stacy said gently.

Mathew finally broke contact with the window, looking over at Stacy. “I thought you told that guy we were passing through.”

“Well, I don’t think we should advertise where we’re really going, you know?” Internally, Stacy sighed. She wished that this wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t help it. There was this feeling…this lingering voice told her to keep moving. Of course, that voice sounded a bit like John’s. Though they’d ended up leaving him behind, she knew how he would react in this situation. “So let’s go.”

They stepped out into the train station, a futuristic building with glass and steel going in an arch overhead as if they were inside a glass-and-steel tube. It was pretty empty, except for the departing passengers. Stacy glanced around, and saw the man in the gray suit had gotten off here, too. She stiffened, then grabbed Mathew and Larkin by the hands and steered them quickly out of the building.

Strangely, it looked more busy outside than inside. Stacy had to stop for a moment to take in the line of cars, each with one or more person standing outside and holding a sign, calling out. But the signs didn’t have names on them like she’d always pictured a rental car would have. These looked like business names, and the shouts of the people reminded her of someone trying to sell something. That was…odd. But maybe it was a cultural thing. “C’mon, guys,” she said, starting down the street. They had to find a place to stay.

Of course, once the people outside the cars saw her, the shouting only increased. It didn’t do any good, of course, since she didn’t know any of the words. Shaking her head, she continued on.

“Excuse me, miss! Miss! Are you new in town? Do you need a bed in the night?”

Stacy stopped, recognizing English. The shouter of this appeared to be a teenager, dark-haired and wearing glasses, standing outside a blue car and holding a sign reading “Süße Träume Hotel.” The moment he noticed he’d caught her attention, he doubled down. “Yes, you Miss! With the two children? We have good prices!”

“Um…so, are all these businesses for hotels?” Stacy asked.

“Yes, yes,” the teenager said. “We all offer deals to those new in town here. Ours is the first night free!”

Stacy hesitated. That…was tempting. Her savings were quickly running out, and it was clear the boys really needed a place to sleep quickly. “What do you two think?” she asked, looking at Mathew and Larkin.

“He’s nice,” Larkin mumbled, swaying on his feet.

“I guess it’s fine,” Mathew said reluctantly. “This is a bit weird, though.”

“It might just be a thing here,” Stacy said. She looked back at the teenager. “Alright, we’ll take that offer.”

“Good! Good good.” He nodded excitedly, then reached over to open the car door. “We will take you there soon! After we see if there is anyone else who wants this.”

“Mooom,” Mathew said in a low voice. “Isn’t this kind of sketchy?”

Stacy hesitated. “Well, if it was, why would there be so many people doing it, and nobody saying anything?” She squeezed Mathew’s hand. “Besides, we can handle anything they throw at us.”

“Well…okay,” Mathew took a deep breath. “Alright.”

Stacy gave him an encouraging smile, then climbed into the car.

It was actually very nice inside. The interior was clean, with a plastic window dividing the back from the driver’s area. In the front was an older lady, who looked back through the plastic and waved cheerfully. Stacy relaxed just a bit. This didn’t feel strange. Or at least, she didn’t get the same off feeling that the man in the gray suit had given her on the train.

A few minutes later, they were joined by a pair of younger women, talking to each other in what sounded like French, and then the teenage boy climbed into the passenger seat. The older woman started the car, and they drove off.

* * *

The Süße Träume Hotel was also a nice-looking place. It was a building, about six or seven stories tall, surrounded by other similar buildings some ways into the city. The lobby was professional, with its color scheme being mostly blue. Once the car dropped off its passengers the teenage boy ran inside and got behind the front desk, shouting something that caused a teenage girl to appear from a back room. The girl quickly checked in the young women, then smiled at Stacy at the boys, gesturing for them to come talk to her at the desk.

Stacy paused, taking a moment to glance around the hotel lobby again. It really seemed perfectly normal, but she couldn’t fully trust anything anymore. Still, she stepped forward to the desk. After some fumbling with languages, they got checked in, and immediately headed to a room on the fourth floor.

And the hotel room was nice, too. Two beds with tidy sheets, a dresser with a television on top, and a clean bedroom. Stacy sighed and took off her backpack, unzipping it and dumping the contents on the nearest bed: a brush, toothpaste and toothbrushes, deodorant, a spare phone charger, and as many spare clothes as could fit in the remaining space, including pyjamas. “Alright, let’s get settled in,” she said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.

Mathew and Larkin fell asleep quickly, but she stayed up for a while longer, staring around the hotel room and waiting for something to appear.

* * *

The hotel served complimentary breakfast until nine o’clock, so Stacy and the boys woke up at eight and went down to the lobby to get food. Breakfast wasn’t anything extraordinary and they finished quickly. But the way back was different.

The two young women from last night were waiting at the elevator when Stacy and the boys arrived. One of them, short and blonde, waved at Stacy upon seeing her approach. “Hallo,” she said. “Er…Sprechen Sie Franzo—F-Franzö…sisch?”

Stacy blinked. “Um, I’m sorry, but—”

“Oh, English, much better!” The other woman said, taller and redheaded. “You were the family at the train last night?” Her French accent was thick, but not unrecognizable.

“Oh, um, yes.”

“Then we have a question to ask you. Those cars outside the station…is that normal?”

“Well…not where I’m from,” Stacy said. “And we’ve never been in this country before, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I see.” The taller woman looked at her friend and translated Stacy’s words into French. 

At that moment, the elevator arrived. All of them hurried inside, with Stacy and the boys squishing towards the back. Larkin pressed the button for the fourth floor, giving Mathew a smug look as he did so, while the shorter woman pressed the one for the first. Once the elevator started moving, the taller woman started talking again. “It just seemed a bit odd, to have them all lined up. And last night, did the, er…the woman at the desk downstairs tell you to not go outside at night?”

“She…she did.” That had been weird. Weird enough to take note of.

“Very odd,” the taller woman said. “What did you think of that?”

Stacy considered this question. After a long while, she replied, “I think we should listen to the locals.”

The taller woman giggled, making her friend giggle in turn. The elevator stopped at the first floor, and the two women headed out. “Thank you, madam,” the taller one said as they left.

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome.” Stacy nodded.

“Hey Mom?” Mathew leaned closer to Stacy, perhaps unconsciously. “Do you think that…things are weird here because of…not normal reasons?”

Stacy frowned. Her instinct was to reassure him, but in this situation, perhaps honesty would be best. “I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “But we’ll be on our way soon.”

* * *

They couldn’t spend all their time in the hotel room. At the very least, they had to go out to get food. So that day, Stacy, Mathew, and Larkin went out to explore the city of Achmatze. She considered leaving them alone in the room, but reconsidered. If something happened to them while she wasn’t there…

The city was normal enough. It was the biggest city any of them had been to in a while, so it took some getting used to, but it wasn’t too big. Stacy found a couple restaurants, a grocery store, and several shops all within walking distance on her phone’s GPS. There were lots of tall buildings, but not that many skyscrapers, which Stacy remembered as being described as having about fifteen stories or more. The architecture leaned towards older styles, and there were a few buses driving around that Stacy realized were full of visitors. Perhaps this place was culturally important, somehow. But then…that made the warning about going out at night even stranger. Wouldn’t a city with tourists want to have a rich nightlife?

Things got even stranger when they had to stop for lunch. Mathew and Larkin had been complaining about being hungry and needing a break for a while, so Stacy stopped by the nearest restaurant, some local place. Upon entering, they were immediately seated by a waiter, who thankfully spoke English.

“You are visitors, yes?” The waiter asked.

“Well, yes. I suppose it’s obvious.” Stacy tried to laugh a little at that comment.

“Very good. We sell many good local foods. Though I must warn you, it is dangerous to go out into the city alone at night.”

“Oh.” Stacy was taken aback for a moment. This was one of the first things this waiter told them. Why? Was it that important? “Well, we’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

After having lunch, they returned to the hotel, deciding to order room service for dinner. It was getting hot in the afternoon, the heat probably helped along by the city’s dark asphalt streets. Once they returned, they were greeted by a different receptionist, an older man. “Hallo, willkommen!”

“Hello.” Stacy waved amicably.

“Ah, I see. Coming in from a day out? Very good. But be careful not to stay out after dark, especially alone.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh, we’ve been told.” This was the third warning. And Stacy knew what they said about third times and charms.

The sun lingered in the sky, shining into their window for a while. Larkin and Mathew set up Netflix on Mathew’s phone, watching cartoons together. And Stacy searched up train times on her own phone. Unfortunately, there appeared to be a limited number of train tickets available for purchase, with the soonest being tomorrow at 7:00pm.

Stacy frowned. The sun would be down at that point, wouldn’t it? Didn’t that go against the warnings? She glanced back over at Mathew and Larkin, laying on the bed next to each other, the phone propped up with a couple pillows. Larkin’s head was on top of Mathew’s shoulder, but he clearly didn’t mind.

No, it would be better to get out of this town sooner. She just knew it. Besides, the sun would have barely set at that point. Maybe it wouldn’t count. And they’d hurry.

She bought the tickets.

* * *

The next morning, Stacy sat at a table in the hotel’s complimentary dining room, staring down blankly at the cinnamon roll she’d grabbed from the breakfast buffet. Mathew and Larkin were still there, deciding what to get that morning. They were well within eyeshot, so she wasn’t worried. Or at least, not too worried. The dining room was fairly empty, mostly dotted with hotel employees and other guests in pyjamas—

“Well hallo again! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Stacy stiffened, and looked up. It was the man from the train. The man in the dark gray suit. Somehow, he’d walked right up to her without her noticing. Immediately, she stiffened, not feeling as tired as she’d been just a second ago. “H…hello,” she said.

The man bowed his head to her for a moment, then looked up again with a friendly smile. “I thought you said you were passing through this city.”

“Things come up,” she said vaguely, glancing back in the boys’ direction. “I didn’t know you would be here, either,” she mumbled.

“Ah, well, this was always my destination,” the man said. “I came here for business.”

“Business?” Stacy glanced back towards him. Wait…were his eyes yellow, or was it just the lighting in here?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I came on behalf of my…company. We have been hoping to establish a hold in this city, but our competition is being very stubborn. Understandable, it’s been here for a while, but we are so much stronger, and a much better suit for this area. I hope to conclude business here.”

“Right.”

At that moment, Mathew and Larkin walked back to the table, plates full of various breakfast foods. “Hi Mom,” Mathew said, eyes immediately darting to the man. “Uh…who are you?”

The man in the gray suit didn’t answer at first, staring at Larkin. And Larkin stared back, eyes wide, gaping. “It’s not important,” the man finally said, taking a step back. He nodded in Stacy’s direction. “You have a very…perceptive son. My congratulations.” And with nothing else to say, he turned and walked away. Stacy turned to watch as he left the dining room, then leaned in her chair until she got the exact right angle to see him leave the hotel through one of the side doors.

“Was that…Mom, was that…?” Mathew seemed to have caught on, and looked a bit pale.

“I’m not sure, Mat,” Stacy said. “Larkin, what did you think about that man?”

Larkin was much more relaxed now that the man was gone, sitting down on the nearest chair and carefully opening his carton of milk. “I think…he was a vampire,” Larkin said. “O-or maybe a werewolf.” He paused, looking up at Stacy. “Is he going to follow us?” His voice suddenly dropped, turning fearful.

“No, I don’t think so,” Stacy said. She didn’t think this man was connected to the thing in the house that had started this all. Though he was the first thing she saw that was…strange like this, but not related to that first incident.

“Alright.” Larkin nodded, relieved, and started eating.

Mathew slowly sat down as well. Stacy hadn’t told him what Roisin, the old woman back in Ireland, told her about Larkin. How he could see through the disguises these things put up. But Mathew was smart enough to realize his little brother knew more about what was going on than he appeared to.

“So.” Stacy said. “We’re ready to leave today?” It was now clearer than ever that they needed to leave this city.

* * *

“Hey Mom?”

Stacy looked up from her phone. Mathew was standing next to the bed where she was laying, staring at her. “Yeah, pumpkin?”

“What time’s the train again?” he asked.

“It’s at seven.”

“Oh. Uh, it’s getting dark.” Mathew’s eyes darted towards the window. It was already twilight blue outside. “Hasn’t everyone been saying not to go out at night?”

“Well…yes,” Stacy said slowly.

“Why don’t we just go now?” Mathew suggested. “We can get there early and wait for the train in the station.”

Stacy blinked. “Oh my god…” How had that not occurred to her? “That’s a great idea, Mat.” She sat up straight, putting her phone away. “We’re all packed already?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Mathew pointed at the backpack, sitting on the other bed where Larkin was using it as a pillow.

“Huh? So we’re leaving now?” Larkin asked.

“Yes, we’ll wait a little at the train stop,” Stacy explained, waiting for Larkin to sit up before she grabbed the backpack. “Are you ready now, Lark?”

“Mm-hmm.” Larkin nodded and hopped off the bed. “Let’s go.”

They headed down to the ground floor, quickly leaving the elevator and entering the lobby. Stacy held onto the boys’ hands tightly as they walked towards the front door.

“Ah! Madam!”

Stacy stiffened, then turned to see the two young women from the day before waving in her direction. Once she noticed them, the taller one grabbed the shorter one’s hand and they ran up to her. “Madam, we wondered if we could ask a favor of you,” the taller one said.

“What kind of favor?” Stacy asked.

“We are going to the train station, could you walk us there?” The taller one smiled, but she looked a little nervous. “It is getting close to night.”

“Oh. Well, we were going there, too, as a matter of fact,” Stacy said. “Sure, we can walk together.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Thank you!” She turned to her friend and spoke rapidly in French, who responded even faster, then she turned back. “We should introduce ourselves. I am Desiree, and this is my friend Soleil.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Stacy, and these are my kids, Mathew and Larkin.”

“Hi!” Larkin waved cheerfully, but Mathew stayed quiet.

“Charmed,” Desiree said. “Now, shall we?”

With the extra two people boosting the numbers of the group, Stacy felt a bit more confident. Still, it was some way to the train station, so they all hurried through the streets. Through the tall buildings, the sun was visibly setting, causing lines of orange and pink clouds in the dark blue sky.

Strangely, they identified the train station by the line of cars. It seemed the queue from the day before wasn’t just a one-time thing. The line wasn’t as long as it had been, but there were still quite a lot of people standing outside cars with their signs. Yet, other than those people, there was no one around. Nobody was walking in and out of the train station building as would be expected. Then again, when they’d left the station upon arriving in Achmatze, it still hadn’t been that busy. Perhaps this wasn’t that popular a destination? But no, that wouldn’t explain the tourist buses that had been driving around.

Desiree and Soliel chattered to each other as the group climbed the steps to the station. Mathew and Larkin were silent, and Larkin in particular stared at the tall steel-and-glass station with wide eyes. The doors were closed, which was…odd. They hadn’t been closed the day before. Stacy reached for the door, and upon finding it unlocked, pulled it open, slowly, hesitantly, and peeked inside—

The smell hit her first, but the shocking sight wasn’t too far behind. Stacy could only gape at the scene spread out in the middle of the train station floor. The moment she regained her senses, she screamed, and whirled around to push Mathew and Larkin out of the way.

“What is it?” Desiree asked.

Soliel peeked through the doors, and immediately paled. “Est-ce un—un corps?!”

“Someone call the police!” Stacy yelled.

Desiree, now white as a sheet as well, nodded, and took out her phone.

“Mom? Is everything okay?” Mathew asked, staring up at Stacy with a look of concern.

Stacy couldn’t respond. What was she supposed to say? That sight…the floor was coated in red, but that was the least of it. The body was at the center of a circle of thick blood, and it had been…split open, was the only way Stacy could think to describe it. From chest to stomach, there was a large slit, with everything that was supposed to be inside spilling out onto the floor. She wished to forget it, but the sight was seared into her mind.

Larkin, curious, pushed past Stacy to try and look inside. She caught on just in time, and pulled him back. “Don—don’t look!” she said. “You shouldn’t see something like that!”

“Wh…” Larkin looked dazed, shocked. Upon seeing that expression, Stacy knew he’d caught a glimpse of it.

“Lark? Are you okay?” she said in a gentle voice. “Can you hear me?”

“I…” Larkin nodded slowly. “…Mom. Did…did someone kill that vampire guy?”

“That—” Stacy cut herself off, eyes widening in realization. Yes, she’d been too shocked to take it in at the time, but looking back on it now…that was the body of the man in the gray suit.

The police appeared soon after the sun went fully behind the horizon. Only two officers, arriving in a single car. As she watched them climb out, Stacy was suddenly very conscious of the holster and handgun under her jacket. Was that illegal in this country? 

One of the officers approached her and immediately started asking questions. Confused, Stacy took out her phone and tried to look up phrases on her dictionary app, but the officer switched languages as soon as she did. “What happened here, miss? Did you see anything?”

“Oh.” Stacy looked up. “Well, I—I opened the door here—thought it was weird that it was closed, but anyway—I opened it, and…there was a body there.”

“Hmm.” The officer nodded and approached the door, throwing it open. Stacy tried to say something, but those protests died down once she noticed the expression on the officer’s face. It was strangely…bored. No, just uninterested, as if she’d seen this before. “Alright, thank you,” the officer said. “Did you know the man?”

“Well, I’d seen him before, but no, not really,” Stacy explained.

The officer nodded again. She said something to her partner, who quickly slipped inside the station, then turned her attention to Desiree and Soliel. “You were here, too?”

“Yes,” Desiree said, and Soliel nodded as well. “We all walked here together.”

“Did any of you see anything unusual?”

No answer for that, but then Soliel raised her hand. “Ich habe ein…einen Mann. Gesehen. Ich habe einen Mann gesehen.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Wie sah er aus?”

Soliel looked a bit at a loss, then turned to Desiree and said something in French. Desiree nodded, then translated the phrase into German for the officer, who suddenly looked more concerned. The officer took out a notebook and began writing this down.

“Um…excuse me, what did she say?” Stacy asked. She could recognize “man” and “hair” and “jacket,” but not much else.

“Soliel saw a strange, suspicious man when we were walking up to the station,” Desiree explained. “A man wearing a green jacket, with brown hair and a…er…cache-oeil, un, er…eye patch! Over his face. Did you see that man? I did not.”

“No, I didn’t see anyone like that.” That description didn’t sound familiar to Stacy. She looked back at the boys, who had decided to sit down on the steps to the station. “Did either of you see a man like that?”

Mathew shook his head, and Larkin said, “No, Mom.”

“Il était là,” Soleil insisted. “Etrange d'attendre ici, juste avant que nous trouvions cela.”

While Desiree said something reassuring in French to her friend, Stacy turned her attention back to the doors of the station. She reached into her pocket and checked the time on her phone. Almost seven. The train was supposed to be arriving soon, could they just leave?

At that moment, the other police officer returned from inside the building. “Oh! Excuse me sir!” Stacy waved him down. “I was wondering something.”

The officer looked at her, confused, then pointed at his partner, who looked up in response. “Do you have a question?” she asked, as the other officer returned to their car.

“Oh. Well, yes.” Stacy nodded. “You see, we have tickets for a train arriving soon, are we allowed to leave?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But I suggest you ask the ticket attendant inside if the train will still leave at the right time. This may have caused a delay.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Stacy walked over to Mathew and Larkin, still sitting on the stairs, crouching so she can be level with them. “How are you doing, pumpkins?”

“I think we’re fine,” Mathew said.

“Lark?”

Larkin looked up. “Mm-hmm.” He still looked a bit troubled, but better than he had earlier.

“Alright.” Stacy let out a long breath. “Well, I’m going to go ask if the train will still leave at the time. Apparently there’s an attendant in the station who can help. You two sit tight, okay?” After making sure they both nodded, she stood up. “I’ll be right back.” And she headed to the door.

For a long moment, she paused outside. What was inside…was she really ready to see that again? Well, she was going to have to, wasn’t she? Maybe she could avoid looking in the body’s direction. So, steeling herself, she pushed open the door and headed in.

She gagged on the thick copper smell in the air, then immediately looked away. Inching around the pool in the center of the floor, she headed towards the ticket booth. Well, it was more of a building in and of itself, a small room walled in with a window through which passengers could get tickets from the attendant. There was a door through which employees could get into the booth.

But strangely, upon arriving at the booth, Stacy couldn’t see anyone inside. She peered around, noticing a desk with a computer and a couple tables, but no people. Odd…maybe that was because of…?

She couldn’t help but turn around and look at the body, though she immediately winced upon seeing it. God, this was terrible. Raising her hand to cover the majority of the gore from her vision, she headed back towards the door.

Wait.

Stacy stopped in her tracks, noticing something on the floor near the puddle. She really didn’t want to get closer to it, but her curiosity overcame her, and she shuffled closer. It looked like some scribbling, but she quickly realized that it was actually writing. A phrase in blood. Stepping even closer, she leaned down to make out the words.

 _‘Das ist meine Stadt.’_ What did that mean? ‘This is mine…’ something? Stacy furrowed her brow. That word was just on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite reach it.

She heard the footsteps too late.

Eyes widening, she tried to turn around, but a pair of arms grabbed her before she could. “Hey! Hel—” A hand covered her mouth. She tried to struggle, tried to see if she could reach her gun under her jacket. But then a needle of pain pierced her neck, and her vision soon faded to black.

* * *

“Mom’s been in there for a while.”

Mathew looked down at Larkin, who was staring at the doors to the train station. “Yeah, I guess. But I mean, maybe the conversation is taking a while.”

Larkin didn’t respond. Then, suddenly, he stood up. “I think we should go talk to her.”

“Huh? But isn’t there a…uh…” Mathew trailed off. Was it appropriate to ask his nine-year-old brother about the dead body he’d caught a glimpse of? He really didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to see it again. “We can just wait. Here, you wanna play a game on my phone or something?”

“You have boring games.” And with that, Larkin headed towards the door.

“Hey! God, Lark, don’t!” Mathew scrambled to his feet, hurrying after Larkin but not quite reaching him before he went inside the building. He glanced back at the two police officers and the young women, all of them talking with each other, before following Larkin into the building.

Shortly after stepping inside, Mathew froze in place. That was…there was…blood…and…insides. He’d seen fake bodies in movies before, which his mom didn’t actually know he’d watched, but it was different knowing that this was not an effect. Nausea rolled in his stomach, but he swallowed it down and managed to tear his eyes away. Larkin, on the other hand, was still looking at the body. “Don’t!” Mathew lunged forward and covered Larkin’s eyes with his hand. “No no no no, don’t look at that, that—that’s—holy shit.”

“I already saw it,” Larkin said. He sounded a bit too calm about the situation. Well, then again, he could be in denial. “It’s gross.”

“It’s very very gross, yes.” Mathew nodded.

“But it’s just a dog.”

“It’s—huh?” Mathew glanced back towards the body, trying to avoid looking at any of the grosser stuff. “I…you’re right.” The body in the middle of the pool was a large gray wolf with yellow eyes. It was the size of a human, and the proportions were a bit…weird. Those eyes were a bit too big, the limbs a bit too long. But it was unmistakably an animal. “…That doesn’t make sense. They’ve all been talking about a body. Like, a human body.”

“Maybe it changed.” Larkin pushed Mathew’s hand away from his face and walked some way away, scanning the train station. “Uh…Mat, where is everyone?”

“I…don’t know.” The train station was completely empty, which was weird. Even if there weren’t passengers, there should be people who worked here, right? Actually…if there had been people here, why had none of them reported the dead body before Stacy saw it? Where were they?

“Do you think…something happened to them?” Larkin asked in a hushed voice.

Now that was a scared tone that Mathew could recognize. He walked up to Larkin and wrapped his arms around him. “No, maybe they’re just not…maybe they’re in, like, employees only rooms. Like, uh, there.” Mathew pointed towards the ticket booth. “Let’s go check that out.”

Larkin nodded, and the two of them hurried over to the booth, carefully avoiding the pool of blood. Mathew reached out and turned the handle of the booth’s door, surprised to find it open. He pulled, and…

“Wh…what. The fuck.”

The door led into a hallway. A hallway with white walls and white-tiled floors, extending for a long, long time before it split into two directions. It looked completely unlike the rest of the train station. Mathew stared into the hall, not moving. “Is this…supposed to be here?”

Larkin walked over to the ticket booth’s window, carefully peering into the room beyond. “There’s no hallway inside,” he said.

“Huh?” Mathew leaned over to look through the window as well. “Oh yeah. This door should lead into this room.” He pressed his face against the glass, trying to get the right angle to see the door from the other side of the room. It was…closed. “Tha-that doesn’t match up.”

“Mat?” Larkin pulled on his brother’s hoodie. “I don’t see Mom anywhere here. Do you think…she went down…there?”

Mathew knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to say it. “This…this is more supernatural shit.”

“Hey, bad word.”

“This isn’t the time, Lark. Let me swear.”

The two of them stood in front of the door. The hallway was undoubtedly there, extending before them like a tunnel that led deep into the unknown depths of the earth. After what felt like several minutes, but was probably only several seconds, Mathew took a deep breath. “Do you think we should go in after her?”

Larkin looked reluctant, but nodded. “Y-yeah. The grown-ups aren’t gonna see this, I think.”

“You don’t have to. You can wait out here—”

“No!” Larkin grabbed Mathew’s hand, squeezing it tight. “I-I want to come with you.”

Mathew looked at him. “Right.” He didn’t want to go in there. But…their mom was in there. She probably needed help. And Larkin was right, he had this strange feeling that if they left, the hallway would be gone by the time they came back. “Let’s uh…go.” He gripped Larkin’s hand even tighter, and together, the two of them stepped through the doorway into the halls.

The moment they passed through, the door started to close, slowly. Neither of them noticed, focused on the journey ahead. Meaning they also didn’t notice the man—a man in a green jacket, with brown hair and an eye-patch—slinking into the train station through the front door. The man stared at the body and the mess that surrounded it, completely unfazed, then looked up and saw the slowly closing door. He ran towards it, grabbing it just before it closed. Then he pushed it open and slipped inside.

The door closed behind him, and the next time it opened, the hallway would be gone.


	24. Overnight Observation - Part Two

Stacy woke up slowly, head spinning and mixing the thoughts inside. Groaning, she tried to roll over, only to find herself unable to. It took a moment for that to register as a cause for alarm, but once it did, her eyes flew open.

This looked like a hospital room, but only at first glance. The white walls had dark red-brown stains on them and there were no windows to be seen. Stacy could see a curtain, the sort of which would be pulled around a patient’s bed in a hospital, nearby. It was also stained, and had a hole in it like someone had stabbed it. There was also a small metal table nearby, on which she could see her jacket, as well as her gun in its holster. She was lying on what would be a typical hospital bed, except that it lacked any blankets and was fitted with straps. Straps that were currently holding her down, across her wrists, ankles, and chest.

“Shit.” Stacy cursed under her breath, then, strangely, laughed. “Haven’t I been through enough?! Do you hear me, whatever you are? I know you’re here! The fuck do you want?!”

There was no answer, of course. Stacy looked around the room again, but it was just as barren as ever. The door looked like a normal white one, but she didn’t expect it to be unlocked.

Taking a deep breath, she decided that the first step would be getting herself untied. Then she’d grab her gun, maybe try to break down the door, and find her way out of…wherever she was. And find the kids, too. Where were they? Were they also in this place?

One way to find out. The straps were tight, but if she could just…just wriggle her way out…then everything would be fine.

* * *

“This place is like a maze,” Mathew muttered.

The white walls of the corridors were all the same, save for the patterns of stains on their surfaces. They branched off at random, sometimes coming to an intersection, sometimes on jutting off the side of a main hall. There were doors, too, white in color, with some having plates on the outside with numbers or words that weren’t in English. Larkin reached out and tried one of them, jiggling the handle but being unable to open it.

“They’re all locked, Lark, don’t bother,” Mathew said.

“One might be open,” Larkin said. “But…what if Mom’s in a locked room?”

Mathew felt his heart sink, but he shook his head to get rid of the feeling. “Then we’ll bust it open. They don’t look too strong.”

They approached a corner where the hallway turned, silent except for the sound of their footsteps. And another sound, a bit distant, a sort of…wailing. Mathew tried not to think about that too much. Instead, he looked at the things clustered in the corner. Some poles, it looked like, on wheels. A few had bags hanging from them.

“Aren’t these those, uh…IV things?” Larkin asked, reaching out to push one.

“Yeah, but I don’t think the bags are supposed to have that in them.” Mathew pointed at one of the bags, filled with a semi-transparent blue liquid. “Usually they’re full of blood or clear liquid what…what is that?”

“Maybe it’s poison?” Larkin suggested in a quiet voice.

Mathew shuddered. “Well, it’s not good, definitely.” He stepped away from the IVs, pulling Larkin by the hand as well. “Do you think we should, maybe, start calling for Mom? Like, shout her name?”

“What if—”

_Clunk._

Both boys stiffened, leaning closer to each other. That metallic sound had come from nearby…behind one of the doors.

_Ca-chunk._

Mathew recognized it that time: it was the sound of something unlocking. Panic surged through his veins. He was sure that whatever had the ability to unlock the doors in this place wouldn’t be friendly to them. His head darted around, but saw nowhere to go. Except for the doors. Well, better than nothing. He ran towards the nearest one, dragging Larkin, and tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, this one turned. He threw open the door and shoved Larkin inside, just as he heard the sound of a different door creaking open as well. He ducked into the room and closed the door behind them, only then allowing himself to breath.

“Told you one would be unlocked,” Larkin said, the shaking in his voice betraying his fear.

“Yeah, haha, you told me so.” Mathew looked around this room. White walls, just like the hallways. Metal tables with stained blue tablecloths sat in rows, a few trays on wheels clustered near the ends. On top of the tables were clusters of metal…instruments? Tools? Things that looked like they would be used in a surgery in a hospital where they didn’t care if the patients actually survived…which, Mathew realized, might actually be what this place was. There were more tools on the walls, though most of these looked more like knives and swords.

There were footsteps in the hallway outside. They stopped outside the door to the room.

This time Larkin acted first. He ran towards the nearest table, yanking Mathew along with him, and then dove underneath. Mathew quickly caught on, scrambling under the table as well, making sure the cloth returned to its proper place. Then the door opened.

Mathew stopped breathing for a moment, reaching out to grab Larkin and hold him close. The tablecloths didn’t go all the way to the floor, leaving the boys with a good view of the source of the footsteps. A pair of shoes and legs, which wasn’t too unusual. Except for the fabric being oddly stitched together, and the shoes being covered in more of those red-brown stains. There was also the ragged hem of a white coat, which…didn’t look like it was made out of regular fabric.

The legs stopped at the table the boys were hiding under. Larkin glanced over at Mathew with wide eyes, who shook his head slightly and pressed a finger to his lips.

More sounds. Metallic. The thing in the coat was probably looking over the tools on the table. It showed no signs of moving for a good while. Mathew held Larkin closer, feeling his pulse clash with the pace of his own heartbeat. Would it notice? Would they have to run? Could they run?

Then the legs turned and walked away. One of the trays on wheels clattered across the floor, being dragged back to the original spot. More metallic sounds, as some tools were transferred over to the tray. And then the thing left, taking the tray with it. The door opened and closed, and there was silence.

For a while, the two boys stayed under the table, slowly breathing. And then Larkin let out a soft, sad sort of gasp, the type that’s trying to be a sob but doesn’t quite get there. And Mathew murmured, “It’s fine, it’s gone, we’re okay, we got this” over and over again.

“W-we…we really need to find Mom,” Larkin said shakily.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Mathew tried to keep any doubt out of his voice. The sort of doubt that gnawed at you and asked, _What if you can’t?_ “C’mon. Let’s go.”

They climbed out from under the table. Larkin started heading towards the door, but Mathew said, “Wait.” He was looking at the tools hanging on the walls. Slowly, he reached out and carefully took one of the knife-looking ones. Just in case. “Alright. Let’s go.”

* * *

When the door opened, Stacy froze. Then she intensified her struggles against the straps. She was sure she was close to getting one arm free, if she could only hurry, if she only had more time—

“Oh, well that’s not good.”

That was a completely human voice. Not at all what she was expecting. Taken off guard, Stacy craned her head towards the door.

There was a man standing there. Wearing a green jacket over a black hoodie, an eye-patch covering his right eye and bandages around his neck. His hair was brown, with a few streaks of gray, and his visible eye was blue. He looked…well, ‘worse for wear’ would be an understatement, but he was actually fairly young-looking. “You need some help there?” he asked.

Stacy narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

For a moment, the man looked hurt, but then he just looked tired. He smiled. “Well, I guess it’s not really important right now. What’s important is that I can get you out. Just, uh, give me a second.”

“…fine.” Why did he seem so familiar?

The man walked over to the side of the bed, looking over the straps. “Alright, this should be easy. They’re just buckles.” He started with the ones on her ankles, then her wrists, and finally her chest. “There.”

Stacy immediately sat up, rubbing her wrists. There would probably be marks left from her attempts to escape. “Thanks,” she muttered, looking the man over. “So, uh…do you have a name?”

The man laughed a bit grimly. “At this point, that’s debatable. But you can call me…you can call me John.”

“John?” Stacy looked confused, then her eyes widened with realization. “Oh my god, John!” The memories came back. “It’s you!”

“You remember?!” John gaped, looking surprised.

“Yeah, of course I remember you, I just didn’t recognize you at first.” That was strange. She doubted anyone else in the world looked similar to John, how come she hadn’t been able to connect him to the man she knew? “Thank you. But, uh, how’d you get here? We left you in Ireland.”

“I have my ways,” John chuckled. “Sorry I got a bit lost, but I was trying to find you. Weird, huh? Don’t know why, guess you’ve grown on me.”

“Well, we are kinda similar,” Stacy reasoned. She swung her legs to the side and stood up, stumbling a bit. Seemed that whatever had been used to knock her out was still affecting her. “But still, how’d you get here? The world’s a big place.”

“I actually came here for a different reason,” John said. “It has to do with this thing.”

“This…thing?” Stacy quickly put it together. “There’s another fucking horror monster here.”

“Yeah. And last time I ran into it, it got really, really annoyed with me, so uh. I’m surprised it hasn’t noticed I’m here yet.”

“Maybe it’s been distracted.” Stacy grabbed her jacket and holster from the table, putting the holster on but wrapping the jacket around her waist. “Do you know the way out of here?”

“Right, uh.” John winced. “Bit complicated. First of all, this place is a maze. I think it might actually shift layout. Second of all, we’re not in a building. We’re actually in some sort of pocket dimension, where the entrances back to the real world pop up and disappear randomly. And third of all…well, I probably wouldn’t have come in here. But I saw…the kids. They ran into one of the entrances, a-and I followed them.”

Stacy felt her heart stop. “Mathew and Larkin?”

“They’re in here,” John confirmed.

Stacy closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, fighting back against the deep-seated fear in her heart. “We have to find them. Let’s hurry.”

John nodded. “Let’s hurry.”

They headed out the room and into the branching hallways, walking hurriedly but not running. The sound of their footsteps on the tiles echoed in the corridors. Stacy’s eyes darted to each door, half-expecting something to pop out. “Do you know the way around this place?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“No, not really,” John said, equally quiet. “I’ve only been here once before. And like I said, it might shift around.”

That wasn’t encouraging to hear. “Mathew? Larkin?” Stacy called, raising her voice only slightly above her normal speaking volume.

“Be careful!” John hissed. “You don’t want it to hear you.”

Stacy shut her mouth abruptly. “Right.” Uneasy, she reached under her jacket and pulled out her handgun. She doubted that a bullet would stop whatever was in here. After all, she hit one of these things with a car, and it still recovered enough to chase them out of town. But maybe it would slow it down.

They walked for what felt like forever. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, or where they were in this maze. Everywhere looked the same: walls lined with doors, occasionally finding equipment like IV poles or a gurney when reaching a corner or intersection. Stacy tried to open a few of the doors, but found them all locked. A faint, high sound pierced through the air, a sound that she recognized but didn’t dare to name. So she just shivered, and walked on, as they passed through a four-way intersection and chose to go forward at random.

Suddenly, John reached out a hand to stop her. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

“…no?” Stacy fell silent. “Wait, I think so.” There was a different sound echoing in the halls. It sounded like…footsteps. Where was it coming from?

Her eyes widened as she whirled around. Behind them, the footsteps approached from one of the hallways at the intersection. They came closer, and soon it turned the corner.

It was a human figure, and at first might be mistaken for a doctor. But that impression was quickly pushed aside. Stitches crossed the coat, clothes, and even its skin, most of its face hidden by a blue surgical mask. For a moment Stacy froze, making eye contact with one wide, blue eye. And then there was a shriek.

John grabbed her arm and started pulling. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck it’s pissed!”

Stacy stumbled but quickly started running as well, shoes squeaking on the tile floor. She clutched the handle of her gun, too busy running to look around and shoot.

“Lauf nicht weg!” Its voice screamed. Footsteps pounded against the floor behind them, easily keeping pace. “Komm hierher zurück!”

“Shit!” Stacy pushed herself to run faster, already breathing heavily. The hallway turned a corner and her shoes skidded across the floor, causing her to almost lose her balance as she turned. John pulled her back into place as they kept running. Behind them, there was the sound of something slamming against the wall as the footsteps momentarily faltered, then returned, faster than before.

Where could they go?! This was an endlessly extending hallway, and it was right behind them, so there was no way to stop and open a door. If the doors would even open, which they most likely wouldn’t. All they could do was keep running.

The hallway ended in a three-way intersection, branching off into two other halls. In the center was a cluster of IV poles. John took the left path, and Stacy turned around to push the poles over. They crashed to the floor, and the thing cried out.

“Look!” John pointed to a door, which was just slightly ajar. Stacy nodded, and the two of them pulled it open and ducked inside, closing it tight.

Only a few seconds later, footsteps ran past the door and barrelled down the hall.

Stacy relaxed, but John looked worried. “It knows we’re wandering around now,” he muttered.

At that, she tensed. “Do you think it knows Mathew and Larkin are here?” John hesitated to answer, which sent a shot of worry through her. “We need to find them. Now. I say we stop being cautious and hurry.”

“Well…let’s not abandon it entirely,” John said slowly. “But yeah.”

Stacy slowly opened the door, just enough to glance out and look to the right and left. The thing in the white coat was nowhere to be seen, so she opened it further and stepped out. “C’mon,” she muttered, holding her gun in both hands. This place was big, but it was still limited, right? They had to run into them eventually.

* * *

“Do you think we could take a break?” Larkin asked.

Mathew looked down at him. “Uh…” In truth, he was starting to get tired as well. They must’ve been walking for an hour at least. But…“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” That thing from before could turn up at any moment.

Larkin sighed. They reached yet another intersection, and paused to look down each of the three paths available to them. “What’s that?” Larkin pointed down the right hallway. Unlike every other hall they’d seen so far, this one had no doors, except for one at the end. That door was steel, blocked with a bar across the entrance.

“Oh. Uh, I don’t know.” Mathew hesitated. “Do you think we should…check it out? It looks dangerous.”

“But like…that’s a door you’d hide something in,” Larkin said. “What if Mom’s in there?”

Mathew was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, we can try it.” He made sure he was holding the blade he’d picked up tightly, then they walked down the hallway towards the door.

Upon reaching the door, Larkin tried to grab the steel bar. He shook it, but it was locked down tight. “Hang on, I’m gonna look at this lock,” Mathew said, leaning down so he could see it better.

The lock was a simple padlock, but it looked like there was a separate one actually in the doorknob. Mathew hummed. He didn’t want to waste their time on this if it turned out their mom wasn’t inside. So he banged on the door. “Hello? Anyone inside?”

Silence. Then, a faint sound. A voice.

“Mom?” Larkin asked, pressing his ear against the door.

“Mom, are you in there?!” Mathew called.

The voice got louder, and clearer. The words were hard to make out, but it was undoubtedly their mom. “Hang on, we’ll unlock the door somehow!” Mathew shouted, then turned his attention back to the locks. How could they get this open without the keys? Could they try to pick the lock? With what? Mathew looked down at the blade. This was long and thin. Maybe…?

He lifted up the blade and poked the end into the padlock. After wiggling it around aimlessly for a bit, he realized that he could actually feel something tapping against the blade inside the lock. It took a few solid minutes for him to angle the blade appropriately, and then he turned it and the padlock came off and fell to the floor with a metallic clang. “Yeah!” Mathew grinned triumphantly, then pulled the steel bar away. It swung on a swivel and hit the wall, allowing him access to the lock in the knob. That one took a few more minutes, actually long enough for Larkin to get tired and sit down. Until finally, there was the cha-chunk sound of it unlocking. “Yes!” Mathew pumped his fist, and Larkin scrambled to his feet. He quickly pushed open the door. “Mom, we’re he—”

The room beyond was dark, but not silent. A heavy whine filled the air, not like a living thing, but more…electronic. Mathew cut himself off, staring into the shadows. Things were moving in there. He could see their eyes. Green, glowing in the darkness. The moment the door opened, frantic shuffling sounds took over the whine, accompanied by some clattering as if things were bumping against metal structures.

Larkin whimpered. “Mat…? I—I don’t think that Mom’s in here.”

Mathew shook his head, stepping back. “…no. I-I don’t think so either. But—but we heard her!”

“Were we tricked?”

That must have been the case. Mathew lifted up the blade, holding it in front of him in trembling hands. “We have to close the door,” he whispered.

The electric whine suddenly grew, increasing in volume until it was piercing. The movement in the shadows turned desperate, things throwing themselves against walls. Then suddenly, something fell to the floor with a loud crash! It banged against the floor, the thing inside it writhing with enough force to pull it into the light. And then, it was clear that the room was full of steel cages, cages just like this. And something inside was starting to wriggle out through a gap in the bars.

“Close the door!” Mathew shrieked, scrambling backwards. Larkin didn’t respond, frozen and staring at the thing flailing on the ground. So Mathew pushed him out of the way, and hurried to grab the heavy steel door and push it closed. But it was slow, too slow, and something managed to squeeze through the gap just before it closed.

The thing was the size of a large dog, but it only vaguely resembled one. Its body was a mismatch of metallic parts and flesh, exposed muscles dripping blood. There was a vague head, with two green eyes, one in front and one in back, as well as a set of metal teeth resembling a bear trap. Two more eyes dangled from its sides, one on the left and one on the right, and six metal legs extended to the ground, one hanging limply as if injured.

For a moment, the boys just stared. And then it lunged. Mathew screamed, and threw the blade towards it, lodging in the creature’s chest and stalling it just long enough for him to grab Larkin and start running.

The creature emitted a loud blast of static, then started bounding after its prey.

* * *

“Did you hear that?” Stacy stopped walking.

“Hear what?” John glanced around the hallway. “Is it coming?”

“No, it sounded like a scream.”

“Oh. Well…there are a lot of screams in here,” John said reluctantly.

“No. I know this one.” Stacy turned, and noticed a hallway branching off the wall of their current corridor. She broke into a run, heading towards the scream. John soon followed, though it took him a moment to overcome his surprise.

The new hallway twisted and turned several times before emerging into a long, straight passage, a four-way crossroad at the end. Stacy slowed down, unsure where to go from here.

Luckily, she didn’t have to decide. Mathew suddenly came running into the intersection from the right passage, pulling Larkin behind him. He hesitated, looking around and trying to decide where to go, and Stacy cried out. “Mathew! Larkin!”

“Mom?!” Mathew looked towards her, relief mixing with the fear already in his face. He hurried forward, still pulling Larkin, and soon the creature following them came into view. It scrabbled against the tile floor before recovering, turning to continue pursuit.

“What the shit?!” Stacy yelled. That thing was terrifying, but she found herself running forward to meet it. Once she met Mathew and Larkin in the middle of the hall, she pushed them behind her and raised her gun, pulling the trigger as fast as she could.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Four shots. Two missed the creature and hit the walls, one landed in its body, and the last was the perfect lucky shot, hitting it in the eye. The creature let out a loud static shriek and stopped, raising one of its front legs and hitting itself in the head.

“What is that?!” Stacy gasped, hoisting her gun. She turned around, instinctively looking towards John for an answer, but he didn’t even notice her. He was staring, fixed in place, at the creature, his face suddenly white as a sheet.

“We found it in a room,” Mathew explained, holding tight to Larkin, who wasn’t responding. “We—we thought you were inside, but it—it sounded like you.”

“It what?” Stacy was about to ask more, but then there was a crack! The creature’s head spun around, a complete one hundred eighty degrees so that the back was now in front. And with the eye in the back now seeing straight ahead, it let out another static burst and lunged. “Fuck!” Stacy grabbed Mathew and John and broke into a run, dragging everyone back the way they came.

For the second time, Stacy found herself running through the endless maze, taking turns and paths at random, with no time to duck into a door. Her breath tore her lungs ragged, and her mouth started to taste of copper, but she had to keep going. The others started to lag, and Larkin stumbled, but she couldn’t let go of them. She couldn’t let go.

They soon arrived at yet another intersection, this one shaped like a T. Stacy turned left at random, and ran straight into something solid with an oof-inducing thump. Staggering back, she looked up, and made eye contact with the thing in the white coat. Her blood suddenly ran cold.

The group stopped for too long. Mathew shouted, and Stacy whirled around to see the creature jumping right at them. Before she could do anything about it, it landed, knocking John to the ground. He screamed, trying to back up, but the creature was too close, its bear-trap teeth snapping. It was all he could do to push it back.

Something grabbed Stacy’s shoulder, and she gasped as she was turned around to face the thing in the white coat. “Etwas tun!” It shouted.

“Wh—” Stacy blinked. It was…actually talking to her. Directly.

“Du hast eine Waffe, benutze sie!” The thing shook her gently. “Schieß auf die Augen!”

Augen? She knew that word. It meant eyes. Did it want her to attack the creature’s eyes? For less than a second, she wondered why it would want that, but there was no time. She pulled out her gun again and turned around, taking aim. She’d have to be careful; if she missed, she could easily hit John. But if she did nothing, he was a goner for sure!

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

It took her three tries to finally hit the eye on the creature’s side, causing it to burst in an explosion of red. It shrieked in static, and turned to look at her.

_BANG!_

Just one try to hit the eye in its head, and it was scrambling backwards, limbs flailing wildly as it rolled on the ground.

_BANG! BANG!_

And just two more tries before she finally shot the eye on its other side. It wailed, the sound less electric and more animalistic, and its movements slowed to a stop. Then she blinked, and its body was gone.

Stacy lowered her gun, breathing heavily. She looked at Mathew, standing nearby with his eyes scrunched up and his hands over Larkin’s ears, then at John, pushing himself into a sitting position and clutching his chest. “Is…is everyone alright?” she asked.

Mathew nodded, and slowly lowered his hands. Larkin looked a bit dazed, but nodded as well. John didn’t respond, instead looking down at his hands. Then he looked up and around, as if he couldn’t believe his surroundings were real.

“Warum _bist du_ hier?!”

The moment of relief was ruined. Stacy turned around, quickly putting herself in between the kids and the thing in the white coat. But it wasn’t paying attention to her; instead its focus was directed entirely at John, who was startled back into the present. “Ich habe dir gesagt, du sollst niemals zurückkommen! Warum bist du hier?! Das wäre nicht passiert, wenn du nicht hier wärst!”

John blinked slowly. “I’m not gonna say I’m sorry. I only followed these guys. You shouldn’t have taken them.”

“Ich hatte nicht vor, einen von ihnen zu verletzen,” the thing snapped. “Alles wäre gut, wenn Sie nicht hier wären!”

“I mean, I don’t think they would agree with you.”

“What’s…going on?” Stacy said slowly.

John climbed to his feet. “Well. I’m not supposed to be here, and it’s pissed about that.”

“Du hast versprochen, dass du nicht zurückkommst.” It almost sounded accusatory now. “Du würdest nicht zurückkommen, wenn ich dir diesen Gefallen tun würde.”

“Should…should we be worried?” Stacy asked, glancing back towards the thing. Its expression was hard to read, but the hostility was palpable.

“Well it says it wasn’t going to hurt you,” John said. “Let me guess, this is still related to that thing in the house.”

“Natürlich!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The thing made a hissing noise. “Ich werde dich auf der anderen Seite der Welt absetzen. Dann wirst du vielleicht für immer verschwinden.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” John said dully.

“You can…speak German?” Mathew asked.

“No,” John said. “For some reason, I can just understand what this thing in particular is saying.”

The thing, apparently giving up on talking to him, turned around and walked away, stopping at the nearest door. It knocked four times on the surface, then opened it up. Slowly, it turned back to look at John, then pointed into the door.

“Oh no way, I’m not leaving them with you,” John walked over to stand in front of Stacy and the boys. “Why can’t you all just leave them alone?”

The thing didn’t answer, just pointed furiously into the doorway.

“Oh, what are you going to do, make me? Did that work out before?” John rolled his visible eye. “You can’t stop me from coming back here—”

Suddenly, the thing lunged forward, grabbing John by his hair and slamming him against the wall. John gasped, then slumped forward, dazed. The thing adjusted its grip to John’s arm and started pulling him towards the open door.

“Hey! Stop!” Stacy shrieked, and holstering her gun, she ran forward, barely grabbing onto John’s other arm right as the thing dragged him through the doorway. It looked up at her, annoyed, but said nothing, yanking on John’s arm. Stacy refused to let go, and ended up falling onto the floor.

She expected the door to lead into another room, but instead, she found herself in another hallway. This one was narrower, and it looked strangely…unreal. The walls and floor looked a bit blurred, as if her vision was fuzzy. Yet looking down at her hands, they were still clear, as were the thing and John, who had regained his senses and was now struggling against the thing’s hold. At the end of the hallway, there was…light. Not artificial light, but sunlight. Stacy gaped at it, then scrambled to her feet.

Mathew and Larkin were standing in the doorway, watching her get up. She looked back at them. “C’mon, pumpkins.” She pointed towards the sunlight. “We’re getting out.” Her voice was a whisper, scared the thing would hear her. The kids looked at each other, then nodded, and stepped into the hall in unison.

John and the thing were getting closer and closer to the sunlight, and John was doing his best to pull away. He wasn’t having much success, as the thing was unaffected by any of his struggles. Stacy took a deep breath, then ran forward, grabbing John’s other arm once again. “I got you!” she said, gritting her teeth.

“Ah! Stacy, be careful!” John gasped, surprised.

The thing made a frustrated noise, then leaned forward to try and push Stacy away. She held on tight to John’s arm, and looked back to the kids. “Go!” she shouted, gesturing with her head towards the sunlight. “We’ll be right there!”

Mathew hesitated, so Larkin took his hand and ran, right past the thing in the white coat, who jumped in surprise, and out into the sunlight. “Nein!” It shouted. It turned around, loosening its grip just a bit, and at that, Stacy yanked on John’s arm and pulled him free. He scrambled to his feet and the two of them broke into a run.

“Stopp!” The thing reached out, the ends of its fingers brushing against John’s jacket as they ran past. Crying out as it failed to grab him, it broke into a run, quickly catching up. John ran out into the sunlight, but Stacy cried out as it caught her by the back of her shirt, yanking her backwards.

“Oh my god! Give up already!” John took both of Stacy’s hands and started pulling. For a moment, it seemed even, but then Stacy felt herself being dragged backwards. She cried out, kicking backwards, but the thing didn’t react.

Then Mathew and Larkin appeared, each grabbing one of their mom’s arms and joining in. With that, the tug-of-war was even again. Stacy gasped, managing to take one step forward.

And with a sudden rrrrrip! the fabric of her shirt tore off, and she fell onto the ground outside. The thing screamed out, but it was soon cut off, as whatever entrance it had created suddenly closed.

Stacy panted, and rolled over, blinking up at a blue sky. She was lying on a patch of yellowish grass, the nearby area covered in dirt, scrubby bushes, and more patches. Nearby, a black asphalt highway stretched across the ground and disappeared into the distance, cars passing by every twenty seconds or so. The only other landmark nearby was a road sign and a strange, empty wooden doorway, perhaps the remains of an old building lost to the weather.

“Mom?”

Mathew and Larkin appeared in her vision, leaning down over her. The wave of relief that followed was so intense that she had to laugh. “Oh…oh, you two. My pumpkins.” She smiled. “Are you alright?”

“For right now, yeah,” Mathew said. “Are you?”

“Of course I am.” She sat up, shivering a bit as a breeze played against the new hole in the back of her shirt. Looking around, her eyes landed on the road sign. Blue, with white text reading Rest Stop: 10 Miles. “Miles?” She repeated. “We…we’re in America. How’d we get here?”

“It connected an entrance here.” John, standing nearby, folded his arms. “It can move the maze entrances wherever, you know. I, uh, kind of wondered if I could somehow use that to catch up with you guys, but you were already there. Still, the States, that’s a long way to go. No wonder the entrance only lasted about a minute.”

Stacy stood up as well. “Hey, uh. Thanks for showing up.”

John shrugged, and grinned. “No problem. I guess I’ve gotten attached.” For just a moment, his expression fell, and fear flickered across his face. But he quickly covered it up.

“Mom?” Larkin tugged on Stacy’s jacket. “Where are we?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Lark. But…well, maybe if we go to that rest stop the sign mentions, we could find out. It’ll be a long way to walk, are you up for that?”

Larkin bit his lip, then nodded. “Carry me?”

Stacy laughed. “You’re a bit big, but sure. Just this once.”

So with the midday sun bearing down, the group started walking in silence. Everything was still uncertain. And nobody could forget the new memories they’d made anytime soon. But the only thing to do was keep moving. They’d find a place to rest soon.


End file.
